


At Your Request (Explicit)

by dettiot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:58:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 41,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of mature/explicit ficlets based off prompts. Exclusively Oliver/Felicity, but with guest appearances from all the other Arrow characters and then some. :-)</p><p>Originally posted on <a href="http://dettiot.tumblr.com">my Tumblr</a>.  The original prompt is the title of each chapter and also included at the start of the ficlet.</p><p>Recent Additions<br/>Chapter 41: Just can't wait to get inside the loft, back of the car smut.<br/>Chapter 42: Birthday sex!<br/>Chapter 43: Fucking to stay warm?<br/>Chapter 44: Those black leather chairs in the lair<br/>Chapter 45: Felicity overhears a drunken Isobel arguing with Oliver at a QC function over the fact the he dropped Felicity's name in bed</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Their deep pants echo around the small enclosed space . . .

_Their deep pants echo around the small enclosed space, but he can barely hear it over the blood rushing through his ears. This woman is going to be the death of him_

He can’t deny that he’s had plenty of sex in his life. There have been few times in his life that he’s been committed to celibacy, and only one period that was by choice: the year he spent preparing for Felicity. Becoming worthy of her, making himself into the man who came close to deserving such a woman. 

Yet all his experience didn’t prepare him for the reality of being with Felicity. How the emotions made everything richer and deeper—and how the physical connection made the emotional one seem even more powerful.

Best of all, Felicity was fucking _amazing_ in bed. 

"You—you’re gonna kill me," he breathes out, reaching out and pulling her on top of him. 

"Mmm, what a way to go," she said sleepily, smiling at him before she kissed his pec, right over his Bratva tattoo. 

He lazily stroked along her spine, feeling each vertebra and grinning as Felicity arched her back a little, following the movement of his hand. He loves how responsive she is, how her body reacts when he touches her. But not as much as he loves how his body reacts to hers. 

Like when she straddles him and grinds down against him and—

Felicity wiggled a little, then laughed. ”Seriously, Oliver? Already?” 

"Are you complaining?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her even as he grins. Loving that with Felicity, there’s laughter and smiles and happiness, even in the midst of the most sizzling hot lovemaking he’s ever experienced. 

"When it comes to you, Oliver, I have no complaints," Felicity said, pushing her hair out of her eyes and leaning in to kiss him. 

And as they begin round three, Oliver can’t help but agree. There were no complaints here.


	2. The thing of it was, Felicity's bikini wasn't actually *that* skimpy

_"The thing of it was, Felicity's bikini wasn't actually *that* skimpy, but when she turned away from him and leaned down a bit to lay a towel on the lounge chair, Oliver tripped over absolutely nothing and barely noticed that his phone had clattered to the cement."_

Because … Felicity had the most delightful ass he had ever seen. And thanks mostly to his years pre-island, he had seen a lot of women. But Felicity—she was just perfect. Smooth skin over gently firm muscles … unlike his body, which was all harsh angles and lines, Felicity was all soft curves. Curves that made his hands itch to touch her. 

His hands and other parts of him. 

Which is how he ended up pressing against her back as she straightened up. 

Felicity looked over her shoulder at him, her eyebrows lifted and her mouth curving into a smile. ”Hi, sailor,” she said, her eyes sparkling. 

"I don’t know why I let you talk me into leaving the room," he said quietly, lowering his voice to something near his Arrow voice. But there was too much warmth, too much love, in the way he spoke to Felicity for anyone to think of him as Starling City’s vigilante.

"Because it’s a beautiful day and we haven’t left the room the past two days. We didn’t come all the way to Hawaii for me to go back to Starling paler than I was when we left," she said, pulling his arms around her. "And I promised you could rub sunblock on me, since I feel very strongly about the importance of SPF." 

Snorting softly, Oliver let his head fall forward, his face resting against her shoulder. ”I love you.” 

"Mmmmm," she hummed, moving back against him. "I love you, too. Now take your shirt off and oil me up." 

He used to think he would never get tired of the Felicity who would watch him work out, her mouth hanging open just a little bit and her eyes fixed on his torso. But now he knew better. The most enticing Felicity in existence was the one who knew she held him in her small hands, the one who could say the most devastating innuendos with a smirk or a sunny smile. 

But that didn’t mean he didn’t give as good as he got, though.

"Why do I have to be shirtless in order to apply suntan lotion to you?" he asked, pressing kisses from her shoulder joint up towards her neck. He felt her small intake of breath and knew he was getting to her.

"Because … because you’re my cabana boy, obviously, and the dress code for a cabana boy is shirtless," she said, her skin turning pink under his lips.

"You don’t say," he said, depositing a long, soft kiss on the side of her neck, with just an extra bit of pressure, before he pulled back. "Well, a dress code is a dress code …"

Felicity turned around, pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her head as she nodded eagerly. ”Uh-huh.” 

Quirking a smile at her, Oliver slowly dropped his hands to the hem of his shirt. Her eyes didn’t waver, staying fixed on his movements, as he began to edge his shirt up. He had just lifted it to above his navel, when he stopped and frowned. ”Wait. If I’m shirtless, how am I going to protect myself from skin cancer?” 

"Oh my God, Oliver," Felicity groaned, cracking first. She yanked him down for a kiss, her mouth so warm and demanding against his, while she slid her hands under his shirt to stroke his abs.

He smiled against her lips and moved his hands to a spot between her hips and her ass. For once, it looked like he had won one of these battles. But honestly, he came out a winner in the war, even if he lost the battle.

Because he always ended up with Felicity.


	3. Oliver's seldom seen neckties OR suspenders.

_Oliver's seldom seen neckties OR suspenders._

“Why are you dressed like that?” 

Felicity blinked, taking in Oliver in all his corporate master of the universe glory. If there was one thing she missed with him no longer having control of Queen Consolidated, it was the suits. His body was made for wearing suits. The well-tailored pants that hugged his ass, the jackets that emphasized the broadness of his shoulders, and the ties. The ties that made her always think about drawing him in close, pulling him down for a long, slow, hot, deep kiss … 

“I had a meeting, with the Palmer Technologies lawyers, untangling everything now that Ray’s … out of the picture.”

Oliver’s voice is tentative, which is understandable. He thinks she’s upset that Ray left. That he’s decided that his suit and his new crusade is more important than her. But the thing is, it isn’t. Because there’s Oliver, making it clear that he’s choosing her. That he wants _her_. 

And she’s been holding back, for _so long_ , but maybe—maybe she doesn’t have to do that anymore.

She steps closer to him, and he doesn’t flinch away anymore. Thing have changed between them, and now … now, she can reach out and wrap her hand around his tie without worrying about him stepping away from her. 

No, Oliver stands very, very still as she plays with his silk tie. “Everything okay?” she asked, gazing up at him. 

He nodded quickly, looking like he doesn’t want to do anything to stop her. Which proves that Oliver is way smarter than anyone gives him credit for. 

Tugging on his tie, she brought him close to her. “Good. Because I have plans for you, Mr. Queen.” 

Oliver’s eyes are wide, his pupils blown. “Y-yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, pulling him down for a kiss. 

God, he was hot. Hot and sexy and gorgeous and a really, _really_ good kisser. The right amount of pressure, the perfect amount of saliva to make lips and tongues slide against each other … she gripped his tie tighter as she kept kissing him. 

“Felicity,” he groaned, his hands running down her back to cup her ass. “Need you.” 

“Need you, too,” she panted, moving her free arm up to drape around the back of his neck. “Take me. Just leave the suit on.” 

His smirk is warm and dark and makes her whole body melt. “Thought you’d like this,” he said, nuzzling her neck. 

“Less talking, more kissing. And other things,” Felicity said, drawing Oliver down by his tie to kiss him hungrily.

And since it was her asking, he would do it, Oliver didn’t hesitate in following her instructions.


	4. oliver walking in on felicity while she's trying on lingerie.

_oliver walking in on felicity while she's trying on lingerie._

When Oliver let himself into Felicity’s apartment, he was expecting to hear music. The clatter of a computer keyboard. Or the sound of the TV, playing something from Felicity’s Netflix queue. But instead, it’s very quiet. 

“Felicity?” he called out, wondering if she’s not here. If he might be able to satisfy some of his curiosity about her. 

Instead, there’s a soft ‘eeep!” from the direction of her bedroom, which makes him curious in a different way. 

“Felicity?” he repeated, walking towards her bedroom and opening the door. Only to feel his breath catch in his throat at what he sees before him.

His girlfriend, his partner, the love of his life … is wearing nothing but the most indecent lingerie set he’s ever seen. 

Okay, maybe not the _most_ indecent, but it’s Felicity, wearing a pair of side-tie panties that barely cover the cheeks of her ass. Felicity, wearing a bra that rivals other great marvels of engineering for what it’s doing to her breasts. Which are frankly amazing on their own, but in that bra? They’re enough to make a man drop to his knees and worship her as a goddess.

And that’s something Oliver’s _very_ ready to do. Because it’s Felicity, his Felicity, wearing lingerie. 

She blushed hard. “You’ve just ruined your birthday surprise, you realize.”

“I … I don’t mind,” he said, letting his eyes run over her. “As long as I can unwrap you now.”

“Like I could stop you, with the muscles. And the way you’re looking at me. Which, I gotta admit, you really know how to make a girl feel wanted—”

Felicity gasped as he moved as fast as lightning, crossing the room and lifting her off her feet. Her legs wrapped around his hips and he grinned as he pressed her against the wall. 

“Not ‘a girl’, Felicity. You. Only you,” Oliver said, before he lowered his head and kissed her hungrily.

Their bodies moved in sync, in coordination, knowing how to build and tease each other to the stratosphere. Oliver never thought he’d have something like this: something honest and true and _real_ , with a woman like Felicity. 

But he did, and he wasn’t about to let her go. Ever.

And when he slid into Felicity, not bothering to take off her lingerie or move them to the bed, Oliver knew that he was exactly where he wanted to be.


	5. whipped cream, frosting, champagne... Something edible being licked off of the abs.

_whipped cream, frosting, champagne... Something edible being licked off of the abs._

“What?” Felicity said, blinking. Because … she couldn’t have heard him right, could she?

Oliver’s grin is wide and dirty. “You like my abs. I thought I’d let you have open season on them.” 

“Really?” she asked, even as her mind started offering up many, many suggestions for what to do with this gift. 

Because let’s be honest here, Oliver Queen’s abs are a gift from God. And she is woman enough to take complete advantage of this opportunity. 

“Really,” he said, walking towards her in that way that made her want to give thanks for being a woman and having Oliver Queen look at her like that. 

“Maple syrup!” 

Oliver stopped. “Maple syrup?” 

Why the hell did she say that?!? Yes, of course, maple syrup was good, but pouring it over Oliver’s eight-pack, letting it run over the ridges of his muscles, then slowly licking it off …

Felicity thought she was supposed to be worrying about how messy that would be, but she was finding it hard to care about how the sweet liquid would make her sheets all messy and sticky. 

“Yes. Maple syrup. Strip and get on the bed,” she said, lifting her chin as she walked into the kitchen and opened up her fridge. 

When she turned around, Oliver had only complied with one of her instructions. And three guesses about which part he had followed, and the first two don’t count.

Especially not when you have a naked Oliver Queen in your kitchen, waiting for you to lick maple syrup off his abs. 

Felicity felt her breath coming faster, but she wasn’t about to turn down this chance. So she stepped towards him slowly, her eyes locked on his, as she uncapped the bottle of syrup. 

When the cold syrup hit his skin, Oliver shivered a little. And then, when Felicity kneeled in front of him, he shivered more. 

“Eager?” she asked, gazing up at him. 

“Just … waiting to see what happens,” he asked, his voice thick and deep.

_Oh, just wait, Mr. Queen_ , she thought to herself as she leaned in and slowly lapped at the syrup that’s just starting to slide past his belly button.

And Oliver would later tell her that she did a very good job of cleaning the syrup off his abs. But it took him a long time to be able to form words in any of the three languages he spoke.


	6. Felicity, we're locked out, it's raining and we're soaked.

_"Felicity, we're locked out, it's raining and we're soaked."_

“Yeah, that’s all true,” Felicity said, gazing up at Oliver. “So what are you gonna do about it, Queen?”

Oliver sucked in a breath, looking down at her. The rain plastered the short strands of his hair against his forehead, his clothes were clinging to his frankly unfairly amazing body, and his thumb was twitching against his fingers. 

In short, she knew he was turned on, and he knew that she knew. So the real question, as she had told him, was what was he going to do.

And the answer? Was to press her up against the wall and kiss her like there was nothing else he wanted to do. 

Felicity held on to him tightly, gripping the soaked plaid shirt he was wearing, as she kissed him back. She so loved kissing him. Oliver kissed with his whole body, and more than that, he kissed with his mind and his soul. She sometimes felt like their souls were communicating when they kissed. 

And then there were the times when kisses were the start of something much, much more. Like tonight, when she realized her legs were wrapped around him and he was pressing her back against the wall of her building.

“Oliver,” she whispered, needing to make sure he was okay with this. He had always been circumspect than her, always wanting to make sure she was protected. 

But tonight, she didn’t need protection. She just needed _him_. 

His eyes were dark, a thin ring of blue visible around his pupil in the light of the streetlamps outside her building. 

“Felicity,” he whispered, rolling his hips against hers. 

“I need you,” she said, holding on to him tightly. “Please, Oliver—”

“You don’t have to ask twice,” he said, his voice a growl as he pushed the skirt of her dress up. 

Felicity moaned as his hands brushed against her thighs. “Oliver, yes, now …”

“So bossy,” he said, his voice full of love and affection and everything else Felicity wanted. And then he was sliding into her, making Felicity forget everything else. 

Oliver set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against hers as he thrusted. His hands gripped her ass tightly, his arms holding her up were like bands of iron, and Felicity had never felt more cherished or loved. 

She came just before him, with a shout and an immediate softening of her whole body, making her slump against him. 

“Mmmmm,” she said, doing her best to hold on to him as they both sought to cope with their devastating orgasms. “I love you,” she said softly, not wanting to hold back the words she had only said a handful of times previously. 

“I love you, too,” Oliver said, kissing her temple. “Now can we call Digg and ask him to come over with the spare key?”

Letting out a soft sigh, Felicity nodded. She shifted against him, only for Oliver to groan at how her body calls to him, even now. 

Felicity looked at him with a raised eyebrow, a dirty smirk on her face. “Up for round two?” she asked, rolling her hips against him before she’s even got an answer.

“With you? Always,” Oliver gasped.


	7. But that thing... with your tongue...

_"But that thing... with your tongue..."_

Oliver’s not ashamed to admit he’s speechless. Because … really. Felicity is amazing, full of secrets and hidden skills that he never knew about. 

At the top of that list? Her ability to use her tongue to bring him to his knees. 

“Sorry,” she said, her voice truly sounding apologetic as she kissed him quickly. “But Thea gave me a very strict warning if we’re late for the party at Verdant.”

This isn’t fair. Last night, this morning, and during lunch today—each time that he thought they were alone, they had been interrupted before anything could happen. Or more like before enough could happen. 

As a result, he’s been half-erect all day, and close to fully hard whenever he’s in proximity to her. And now, she’s racing around her (their?) apartment, getting ready for the party being thrown by his little sister.

And that should be enough to make him gain control, but it’s not. 

All he knows is that he needs Felicity, and he needs her now. Especially when she unconsciously does the tongue thing. When she lets her tongue peek out between her lips, rubbing against her plush, warm lips, making him imagine what her tongue felt like against his cock. 

“Felicity,” he said, hearing the note in his voice that said he was very close to whimpering. But damn it, his hand was no substitute for her, and honestly? No one has ever given him a blow job like Felicity has. 

To his relief and slight embarrassment, Felicity stopped at the sound of his voice and looked at him. A dictionary's worth of words are exchanged between them, and then Felicity is slowly walking towards him, in that slow saunter that made him feel like he’s going to burst. 

She goes up on her toes to kiss him, and then she’s kneeling in front of him. And it’s all Oliver can do not to start babbling how lucky he is to have her, tell her how much he loves her, or just simply let loose with a string of words that capture just how he feels.

Her mouth is soft and warm and so wet. Her lips, painted pink already, are the most erotic thing he’s ever seen when they’re wrapped around his cock. Soon, it’s all too much: the soft skin that covers her shoulders, the grip she has on him, the sight of Felicity, his Felicity, sucking him off and making those goddamn sexy noises … 

“Felicity!’ he gasped as he came, feeling relief for the first time in thirty-six hours. Yet he knew it wouldn’t be long until he wanted her. 

Oliver leaned forward, drawing Felicity up from the floor. They kiss slowly, and Oliver doesn’t know for how long. But he knew that tonight, he’d pay Felicity back. 

By showing her she isn’t the only one with a tongue thing.


	8. The last time doing the dishes was interrupted, YOU broke my favorite mug.

_The last time doing the dishes was interrupted, YOU broke my favorite mug._

Oliver lifted his lips from Felicity’s neck and frowned. “No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did,” Felicity said, turning her head to look up at him over her shoulder. “ _You_ broke my favorite mug, because _you_ made me knock my mug into the sink and it broke into a million pieces.”

“You didn’t complain then,” Oliver said, leaning in towards her. 

“That’s not the point—oooh,” she moaned breathily as his lips played with her earring as he sucked on her ear. 

He slid his hands around to her front, holding her in place as he rubbed her stomach. Felicity tilted her head as he kept pressing kisses to her ear and neck and jaw, then lifted her hands from the soapy water to brace against the sink. 

“Oliver … just get me a new mug and it’ll be my favorite,” she said, arching her back and turning her head to brush a kiss along the underside of his chin.

God, she just … she took all his broken pieces and made him whole. 

Pressing his hips hard against her ass, he whispered in her ear, “Felicity.” 

She was turning in his arms as he lifted her up, her ass resting on the lip of the counter. Her arms and legs went around him, holding on as he kissed her as hard as he could, wanting to just crawl inside her. 

Thank God she was just wearing his shirt and her panties. His hands fumbled as he removed all the barriers between them and slid into her. Finding again the connection that was everything.

“Oliver,” she whispered, one hand resting on his cheek. “Yes …” 

Talking during sex wasn’t his thing normally. Even with Felicity, he felt too much most of the time to be able to put it into words. But something about this—the early morning light, the way she held on to him, the utter normality of doing the dishes on a Saturday morning and knowing he was home—loosened his tongue. 

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “You make everything better, you make me better—never wanna lose you. Need you always. Felicity, don’t ever stop loving me. Please …”

Her eyes never looked away from his and he could see how his words affected her. Made her breath come even faster than usual, even as he thrust hard and deep. 

And because she was his perfect fit, Felicity clenched around him and said just what he needed. 

“Always. Forever. Never gonna stop, Oliver.” She kissed him, her lips trembling against his, and he felt her climaxing and then so was he and … 

And he believed her. Because whatever Felicity said, he believed. And because she always told him the truth.


	9. You know, sometimes I really prefer doing this vertical to horizontal.

_You know, sometimes I really prefer doing this vertical to horizontal._

Oliver’s eyebrows go up and he huffed out a laugh. “Yeah? Why’s that, Felicity?” He thrust again, adding some kind of definitely-illegal hip swirl that was really, _really_ good.

“OOOooooh, don’t do that if you want me to talk! God …” she breathed out, tightening her grip on him.

That made him stop, seated deep inside her, and laugh for real.

“You are evil,” she said with a pout, one that was only partially put on. Because he had _stopped_ , damn it, and she had a perfectly valid point. 

“Sorry,” he said, smirking as he started moving again, barely-there thrusts as his hands gripped her ass tighter. “But I still wanna get an explanation. Horizontal doesn’t work for you?” 

“Didn’t say that,” she said. Feeling her breath catch at how good he felt. “Just, this? Against the wall? Doesn’t it feel amazing for you?” 

His eyes snapped to hers, all humor vanishing. And then he’s leaning his chest against hers as he kissed her slowly and softly and tenderly. So tenderly, like she’s the most precious thing to him. 

“Felicity,” he whispered against her lips. “ _You’re_ amazing. That’s what makes this amazing.” 

It’s impossible for her to not believe him. Impossible to not trust him. 

So she rolled her hips, taking him deeper, making him moan. “Y’know why I love this? Because it’s with you.” 

And then he’s smiling at her, that sunbeamy smile she loves, and he’s moving again, and oh—oh _yeah_.


	10. Either a broken bed or another piece of furniture destroyed by their enthusiastic sexing.

_Either a broken bed or another piece of furniture destroyed by their enthusiastic sexing._

The cacophony—from the crash of the headboard separating from the bed frame and Oliver’s hand smacking against it to keep said headboard from falling on top of them—has faded. There’s only the sound of his laughter as Felicity spoke.

“You have, like, three pieces of furniture! And we broke one of them!” 

Oliver managed to stop laughing and looked down at Felicity, who looked horror-struck and very much not in the moment anymore. “Felicity, it’s okay.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “Wait—are you _proud_?”

He shrugged and grinned at her. “Yeah. Never done that before.” 

“Wow. Something sexual that I’ve done before Oliver Queen.” 

Now he’s out of the moment. He pushed himself up so he can really look at her. “What?”

“Oooh,” she said, her face going red. “I just broke rule one.” 

“What rule?” he asked, hearing his voice get a bit deeper. “And what happened?”

“Rule one: don’t talk about exes when you’re in bed with your current boyfriend,” Felicity said. 

Honestly, he doesn’t give a fuck about this rule. All he cared about was how Felicity broke a piece of furniture during sex with someone who wasn’t him. 

When it came to Felicity, he was a jealous, possessive bastard. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he held it in. This situation, though? There was no way it wasn’t in the one percent of the times that he couldn’t hold back that side of himself.

And because Felicity was crazily attuned to him, she knew when to humor these moods and when to argue with him about his jealousy being ridiculous. 

Her hands ran slowly over his shoulders. “It was a lamp,” she said, a small smile on her face. “Just a lamp. Not a whole bed.”

There’s a definite note in her voice of “you are silly but I still love you.” Oliver chose to focus on the second part. Chose to pick up where they left off when they were suddenly dropped a foot as the bed partially collapsed under them.

Felicity’s eyes widened. “Oliver?!?” 

To answer her would mean not sucking on her neck, stopping the very important task of giving her a hickey, so he didn’t say anything. Just kept going. 

“Oooooh … Oliver, we gotta get up and fix the bed …”

“Nope,” he said, kissing her hungrily as he drew one of her legs around him. He rocked his hips, pressing hard against her center, more than ready to slip into her. And she was ready, too. 

“Later,” she agreed as he entered her, gasping. “Oliver …” 

There was so much swirling around in his head. About his jealousy and about their pasts and how to reconcile all that. But as he rocked his hips against her, as he heard Felicity moan and felt her hands touch him everywhere, lingering on the spots she knew drove him crazy, Oliver let those thoughts drift away. 

He had more important things to think about. Like making Felicity moan louder. Like trying not to come when she leaned up to kiss the first scar he had ever gotten. 

Like loving Felicity with everything he had.


	11. Anything paralleling Felicitys flirtiness this week except with established olicity?

_Anything paralleling Felicitys flirtiness this week except with established olicity?_

“Oliver.” 

_Uh-oh_. That’s the first thought that goes through his head when he hears that tone in her voice. Because that particular tone? It’s both good and bad. 

Slowly, he put down the whetstone he was using to sharpen his arrowheads and carefully turned on his stool, coming face-to-face with his girlfriend. Not that she was just his girlfriend. 

She was his everything.

And she was coming towards him, her hips swaying just a little bit as she sauntered across the Foundry towards him. “Did you notice we were all alone down here?” 

He had to look around to confirm this, because when he started his task, Digg and Roy had been here sparring and Laurel was getting a lesson in how to use Felicity’s computers. 

This place was awfully crowded lately. It made him kind of miss last summer. For a lot of reasons. 

But then Felicity closed the gap between them and rested her hands on his shoulders, and he’s happy with how things are going _this_ summer.

“It’s a beautiful night out there,” Felicity said, her voice like honey. “Perfect for a late dinner on some restaurant patio … a walk … maybe some ice cream …” 

“Uh-huh,” Oliver said, hanging on every word. Feeling the desire to just … melt, when one of her hands trailed up from his shoulder to stroke along his jaw, her bright blue fingernails scratching a little against his scruff. 

“Or,” she said, drawing out the word, gazing at him with those bedroom eyes of hers. 

Oliver shot up to his feet. “Or. I pick Or.” 

Just like that, the sexy flirty routine is dropped and Felicity’s giggling and throwing her arms around him, and he’s hugging her back and he loves her. 

And he wants to throw her against the wall and devour her. 

He can’t help smirking a little. 

XXX

_Uh-oh_. Oliver is smirking. Felicity can almost see the wheels turning in his head and she’s wondering if perhaps, just perhaps, she went a little overboard just now. 

But God, it’s so much _fun_ to flirt with Oliver. Really flirt, knowing that it’s not camouflage for what they want to do. Feeling their connection spark and crackle like an electric wire. 

Plus, he gets so floored when she flirted with him. Oliver Queen has his socks knocked off by _her_. 

Oliver has taken her hand and he’s pulling her over towards one of the columns that surround the sparring area. She frowned a little. “Oliver?”

“Just something I want to do first,” he said, gently pushing her back against the column. He looked around, nodded, and turned back to her. “Perfect.” 

And then he’s kissing her. All teasing lips and a hint of tongue, and this should be illegal for how good it felt. 

Felicity changed her mind about that, though, when Oliver dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands smoothing over her dress in long, slow passes. “Oh, God.” 

“Thank you,” he said, looking up at her with that cocky little smile of his. The one that made her want to press her legs together, not that she would give him the satisfaction of doing so. “Open your legs, Felicity, please.” 

What? Oh. 

“Only because you asked so nicely,” she said, trying to sound flirty again. 

“I’m sure that’s the only reason,” he said, nodding and still smirking. 

At least the smirk got wiped off his face in a moment. More because he slid her dress up, tugged her panties down, and buried his face in her center. 

She can’t hold back her whimper as he swirls his tongue against her. Any sense of power she might have felt had vanished, and now he’s got her totally in his hands and on the edge. 

Flirting isn’t the only fun thing they do together, Felicity thought as she climaxed.


	12. you were right...

_you were right..._

Oliver stopped and looked at Felicity, tilting his head to the side. “What was that?” 

She rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder. “You were right. Don’t rub it in.” 

“Oh, I think I’m entitled to some rubbing,” Oliver smirked, wrapping his arms around her and bending down to kiss her slowly. 

Could he make _anything_ sound sexual? But when Oliver did it, she never saw him get flustered or embarrassed. No, he totally owned his innuendos, the smug sexy gorgeous bastard. 

His hands stroked along her spine, making Felicity feel the need to high-five herself. ‘ _Backless dress! Good thinking, Past!Felicity!’ ‘Thank you, Present!Felicity. Bet Future!Felicity is **really** gonna enjoy this._ ’

He nipped at her ear. “You’re thinking again.” 

“Past!Felicity and Present!Felicity want to be replaced by Future!Felicity,” she said breathlessly, because he knew he could get her to do anything when he stroked her back and then nibbled on her earlobes. Her how-did-she-not-know-her-ears-were-so-sensitive-before-Oliver earlobes. 

“I have no idea what that means,” he said, before using his tongue to play with her earring.

Felicity let out a moan. “Less talking, more kissing.” 

He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling. “Yes, ma’am.” And then he swooped in and started kissing her, and his hands were everywhere, but most importantly, they were lowering the zipper on her dress.

Her own hands got busy, unbuttoning and untucking, because while she loved Oliver in any kind of suit, and she really loved when his jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up and his bow tie was undone around his neck, tonight she just needed his skin. Because God, he was built like a god and he was _hers_. 

Once their clothes were strewn on the floor around them, Oliver lifted her up and pressed her against the wall. He kissed her softly, his lips moving against hers and making her feel cherished and loved and happy. So happy. 

And for a split-second, she remembered those dark days when neither of them were happy, when all they knew was that they needed each other to be happy but didn’t know how to make that happen.

But now they were together, and they made so many happy memories every day. 

She stroked her fingers along his jaw and moved her head back to look at him. “I love you,” she said softly, needing to say the words. Needing to remind him.

Oliver searched her eyes for a moment, his gaze utterly open and soft and warm, and then he smiled at her. “I love you, too,” he said, before he slowly slid into her. 

And just like always, no matter how they started their lovemaking—teasing, passionate, a little bit angry or silly—that moment of connection made Felicity feel like she was home. 

Because home was Oliver.


	13. that one time that Diggle walked in on Oliver and Felicity after a particularly close call on a mission.

_that one time that Diggle walked in on Oliver and Felicity after a particularly close call on a mission._

Digg knows all about what happens after a mission that goes wrong. You’re hyped up on adrenaline and you’re trying with everything you’ve got not to think about how much you almost lost. And that usually means you get physical with the person you love.

Hell, he had kissed Lyla for the first time after a clusterfuck. 

So after tonight, he knew to give Oliver and Felicity some time alone. Let them yell and fight and then make up—and make out. 

He gets a drink in Verdant, chats a little with Thea. And feels very glad he’s not Roy, forced to go downstairs to change before he can go home. Score one for the guy without a mask, he thought with a smile.

But it’s been an hour, and he wants to check in with Oliver before he goes home, himself. So he punches in his code and steps into the Foundry.

“Oliver? Everything okay?” he calls out as he comes down the stairs. He doesn’t hear anything, so he starts walking towards Felicity’s computers. “Felicity, Oliver? You two—oh, for God’s sake, people.”

The last thing he wanted to see tonight was Oliver Queen’s bare ass. Apparently, in order to protect Felicity’s virtue from a man who considers her a sister, Oliver had rolled onto his side and presented his back to Digg, with Felicity hiding behind the Oliver!Wall.

“You two are the ones who are gonna clean those mats with Lysol. No, hose ‘em down with bleach,” Digg says, turning and heading back towards the stairs. 

“Sorry, Digg!” Felicity calls out, her voice sheepish and embarrassed but also just a tiny bit annoyed at being interrupted. And that’s definitely not something he wants to think about tonight, either. 

Digg waits until he’s out of the Foundry to grin a little. “Still better than last summer,” he says with a shake of his head before he heads out to his car.


	14. drunk Felicity.

_drunk Felicity._

“Felicity—” Oliver said, only to bite off his words when his beautiful, amazing, drunk girlfriend undid his belt. She leaned down and pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips, one that he couldn’t help responding to. Because … it had been a crazy week and they hadn’t been able to be together, and he had made very definite plans to fix that tonight. Along with one other thing. 

But then one of Felicity’s MIT friends, someone she hadn’t seen since graduation, had called that she was in Starling City for the night. And he had known it was more important for Felicity to see her friend. So with a smile and a slow kiss, he had let her go. They could wait.

Felicity had neglected to tell him two things, though: this friend liked to party. And this friend really liked to get Felicity drunk.

“You—you’re drunk—” he tried again, knowing he should push her hands away but fuck, her fingers were brushing against his abs as she popped the button on his pants and even though she had done so much more to the muscles there, something about her touching him as she opened up his pants made him so hot. 

Or it could just be the frustration talking. He had gone nearly a year without sex while they were working things out, and he’d handled that better than this week of abstinence. He felt like he was going to explode.

But she was drunk.

“Felicity—Felicity, no,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and gently pushing her back. “You’re drunk.”

She rolled her eyes and blew out a breath, stirring the lock of hair that was hanging in her face. “It’s not like you don’t know I wouldn’t be doing this if I was sober.”

How could she even come up with a sentence like that when she was drunk? When he was drunk, he turned into a caveman. Oliver had to smile as he lifted his hand to brush her hair back. “I know, but c’mon, let me get you some water and we can go to bed.”

“Nope,” she said, sliding her hand into his boxer briefs and wrapping her hand around his cock.

He groaned. Really loudly. Because … _fuck_. 

“You take care of me, I take care of you,” she whispered in his ear, her words soft and seductive. “Just this, I swear. You can trust me, Oliver, but I have to touch you.”

Her hand was a bit warmer than normal, and it felt amazing. His brain was short-circuiting and maybe—maybe this was okay? Kissing and touching was okay, he thought, when she was drunk, and it wasn’t like he was going to let himself get carried away when she was like this. Just a hand job—that was okay, right?

Tomorrow when she was sober, though? Oh, he was going to return the favor, and then some. 

“Felicity …” he moaned, dropping his hands from her shoulders to grip the couch. She gave him a big, beaming smile as she paused her movements to pull him from his pants, and then she went back to stroking him slowly, with firm pressure and a little bit extra on his tip. Her other hand was gently cupping his balls, rolling them and making him hiss. 

“I could think of nothing but you all night,” Felicity said. “I kept hoping you’d just show up. And take me against the wall of the club. Right out in public.” 

Oliver stared at her. Wow. Felicity had never exactly held back when they were in bed together, but that was … that was more raunchy than he had expected from her. 

She gave him a little smile, as if she could read his mind. Which, fuck, she probably could, with being a genius and knowing how to touch him, how to turn him on, even when she was most definitely _drunk_.

If he kept reminding himself of why this wasn’t going any further tonight, he wouldn’t lose control.

“Kate knew I was distracted,” Felicity said, her hand starting to move a bit faster. “And when I told her what I had waiting at home for me, she practically shoved me in a cab.” She leaned in towards him and squeezed him harder as she spoke in his ear. “On the ride home … I touched myself and thought of you, Oliver.” 

His hips jerked hard as he instinctively thrust into her hand. Because she could not tell him that and not get a response. Which was probably the whole plan for his genius gorgeous sexy-as-hell girlfriend. His. His Felicity. 

“Yes,” he said, holding on so tightly to the cushions he was convinced he was going to tear them in two. “Felicity, don’t stop, please, please—” 

“I won’t,” she said, her voice unbearably tender as she nuzzled him. “Let go, Oliver, just let go …” 

As she clamped her fist around him tightly and rubbed him fast, she also slid her other hand underneath his balls, to stroke that little line of muscle that ran back towards his ass. 

And Oliver let go. Let go by bracing his feet on the floor and arching his hips, by his hands flying up to hold on to Felicity, by throwing his head back against the sofa and bellowing her name. 

“FELICITY!”

He doesn’t really remember what happened after his climax. There’s fuzzy memories of Felicity giggling, and then there’s the scent of her hair, overlaid with sweat and alcohol, and her warm body cuddled up against his. 

When he wakes up in the morning, though, he feels as hungover as she does. But that doesn’t stop him from giving her hand jobs in the shower or in the kitchen while they make breakfast. Or from going down on her in their bed that afternoon, just for good measure. 

When he proposes that night, though, they make love. Twice.


	15. Felicity? Hold on to me tight.

_"Felicity? Hold on to me tight."_

Oliver paused, the words sparking a memory. And then he remembered: standing on top of the elevator inside Merlyn Global, getting ready to swing across the abyss. In more ways than one. Because the moment he had stood up, Felicity’s arm around his shoulders and her body pressed against his, he had felt something. Something electric and alive and unlike anything else he had felt when he touched a woman. 

Looking into her eyes, he could see Felicity remembering, too. Her eyes went soft and she smiled. “I imagined saying that to you under different circumstances,” she said, giving her hips a swirl and taking him in deeper, making him gasp. 

“Very—very platonic circumstances,” Oliver said breathlessly. 

“Oliver,” she said, reaching up to take his face in her hands and kiss him. A kiss full of love and need and want and hope and amazement. 

Because when he had wrapped his arm around her, he had no idea he would end up here. In their bed, in their apartment, Felicity underneath him with her hair spread out over their pillows, looking up at him with that smile that was his and his alone. 

And all the love and happiness in him had to be shared with her. 

Pushing himself up on his hands, Oliver used the leverage to thrust hard and deep into her. She moaned, her hands reaching up to run up and down his arms, finally coming to grip his forearms as he kept moving. 

“Hold on, Felicity … hold on. Don’t let go,” he panted, staring into her face. Feeling a wild sort of desperation, something he had never experienced before. Because he couldn’t lose this. Couldn’t lose her. He had lost everything else—sometimes temporarily, sometimes permanently. But not having her for a minute would be agony, heartbreak, torture. 

Felicity wrapped her legs loosely around his hips. “I’m here. Oliver, I’m here,” she said, running one hand up his arm and arching up to touch the back of his neck, pulling him down on top of her. 

The full body contact helped, letting him slow down a little. Felicity smiled at him, stroking his neck and running her fingers through his hair. “Oliver. My Oliver,” she said softly, her eyes as blue and deep as the ocean.

And when he spilled himself inside of her, it was like being wrapped in a never-ending embrace. And finally, he felt at peace.


	16. We have to be quiet, I don't want Dig yelling at us again.

_We have to be quiet, I don't want Dig yelling at us again._

“He went home for the night. Stop worrying,” Oliver said as he unbuttoned her blouse and sucked on her earlobe. For a guy who was all intensity and focus, he sure could _multitask_ when it came to getting her naked and having his way with her.

Not that she wasn’t equally good at doing more than one thing at once when it came to him. 

“It’s _so_ embarrassing,” she said, shivering as she tugged on his t-shirt, pulling it out from his leather pants and getting it halfway up his torso before she got distracted by his abs. 

Oliver pulled back and smiled at her. “Can I help you with anything, Miss Smoak?” 

“Yep,” she said, looking up at him. “It’s Ms.” 

Snickering softly, he leaned in to kiss her. “Yes, Ms. Smoak.” 

“Oh, I like this. ‘Yes, Ms. Smoak.’ ‘No, Ms. Smoak.’ ‘Anything you say, Ms. Smoak.’” Felicity smiled as she whispered against his mouth, not wanting to pull away in order to fully enunciate. 

“It’s always ‘anything you say,’ you know,” Oliver said, finishing the job of unzipping her dress. And then his big warm hands were on her back and _oooooh_. 

“Oliver,” she moaned, fisting his shirt in her hands—and _why_ was he still wearing it?

He gazed at her, then slid his hands down to cup her ass. “Louder.” 

When he squeezed her ass, she let out a gasp, but she looked into his eyes. “’Louder’ what, Oliver?”

Oh, she was very, very glad she said that. Because the look he gave her made her knees go weak and her panties get even wetter. It was filthy and sexy and hot and a thousand other words that said she was about to have a _very_ good evening. 

Leaning in, so close that she could feel his hot breath on her neck, he spoke in a low, dark voice. “Louder, Ms. Smoak.” 

“Oliver!” she said, her voice echoing slightly off the high ceiling of the Foundry. 

“Don’t stop,” he said, stripping off her dress before lifting her up onto the table. 

She winced at the contact of the cool metal table against her hot legs and ass, but then Oliver was kissing her, rocking against her, and she was moaning louder and louder, until she was almost shouting his name, which made him look so cocky yet also thrilled, so she kept going, kept increasing the volume until she knew her voice would be sore in the morning.

And then, less than a minute after they both climaxed, a ring tone that Felicity recognized, but knew wasn’t coming from her phone or Oliver’s, started chiming. 

“Oliver,” she said, pushing at his shoulder. “I—I think that’s Digg’s phone.” 

“Huh?” he said, looking at her with his adorably befuddled post-sex face. Which was a _really_ good look on him, and she leaned in to kiss him, only for the ring tone to go off again. 

“Hold that thought,” she said, sliding off the table and stumbling a little. Oliver steadied her and she gave him a quick smile as she walked to her computer table, where, yep, Digg’s phone was sitting. 

Her curiosity getting the better of her, she swiped the screen and entered Digg’s passcode, only to go beet red at the two text messages she saw. 

“Oliver Jonas Queen, you are in so much trouble!”

He jumped, blinking. “What did I do?” He paused, then smirked. “Other than y’know.” 

“Oh my God,” Felicity moaned, looking at the messages again. Oliver must have gotten worried, because he walked over to her and plucked Digg’s phone from her hand. 

She watched as he read the messages, and then his face went red.

_**LYLA AND I CAN HEAR YOU.** _

_**Screw it, I’ll get my phone tomorrow. Not that I’ll need it, since I’m gonna need hysterical deafness to get you two out of my ears.** _


	17. Oliver, Felicity, heat, sunshine, the scent of sunblock, bathing suits, smut.

_Oliver, Felicity, heat, sunshine, the scent of sunblock, bathing suits, smut._

Slowly, Oliver awoke from his nap to the sensation of his wife kissing along his spine. 

Although could he call it a nap when he had never even gotten out of bed this morning? 

Whatever. 

He reached a hand back to touch Felicity, warning her that he was awake and about to roll over. She swatted at his hand. “No. Stay like that.” 

Laughing quietly, Oliver turned his head to try and look at her over his shoulder. “Felicity …”

“Did you know what I found out while you were being Sleeping Beauty?” Her voice was soft and teasing—just like her mouth was as she kept kissing his back between every few words.

“Umm …?”

She giggled and this time, her kiss was more of an open-mouthed suck on his shoulder blade, which made him want to purr like a cat. “It is twenty-eight degrees and snowing in Starling City. Right now.” 

“Then I guess we made the right decision, having our honeymoon in Tahiti,” Oliver said.

“Mmmm, yes,” she said, moving lower, still sucking on his skin, and laying face-down was quickly becoming a problem.

Twisting underneath her, he slide his arm around her waist as he rolled over, grinning as she squeaked. “Hey, I wasn’t done!” She pouted at him as he settled her on top of him.

The mid-morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy white curtains of their private villa. Very private, since they’re both naked and there’s just a thin, soft white sheet to provide them any protection from the warm breezes blowing in through the open floor-to-ceiling windows. 

A white sheet that was currently kicked to the bottom of their bed, letting him take in the sight of Felicity, in all her beauty and glory. 

The only thing she was wearing are her engagement and wedding rings, which honestly are the only things he never wants her to take off. Her hair was messy and wavy—total bedhead—and sexy as hell. Her skin glowed in the pale light, showing off the faint trace of bikini lines running along the sides of her breasts and her neck and her hips and her belly. Which made sense, since they’ve spent the last five days either in this bed or out on the beach. 

And Felicity refused to go outside the villa naked. “No, Oliver. What if someone came by from the hotel? Or drones!”

Which was just so perfectly Felicity that he had laughed and nodded. Besides, his wife liked skimpy bikinis, something he hadn’t known before this trip, so it was hard to mind that much.

His wife. It was still hard to believe that Felicity was his. Because until his last day on Earth, he would always think she deserved better than him. But she had taught him that what she deserved was what she chose. And she chose him. She put a wedding band on his finger and promised to love him forever.

Oliver had every intention of holding her to that. 

Sliding his hands up and down her sides, Oliver grinned at her. “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“You better,” she said, arching a little, her head dropping back. “I liked what I was doing.”

“How about I give you something to like more?” he asked, using his abs to lift himself up enough to kiss her without moving his hands from her sides. 

She moaned against his lips, grinding down against him. “Damn it, Oliver, that was so hot …”

“Yeah,” he muttered against her mouth. Although he was talking about the look on her face as he lifted up and the way her hips were moving against him now. 

He moved one hand behind him to support himself as he arched his hips and slid inside her. Felicity’s eyes go soft, locking onto his. “I love you,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and moving close to him. 

Every time she said those words, he felt like a piece of himself came back. All those parts of Oliver Queen he had traded away, it was like he knew where they were and he could find them, because Felicity believed in him, she trusted him, she inspired him, she challenged him. She loved him.

And in the past, that realization would be enough to make him roll over and piston himself inside her, now he doesn’t. Because now he knows there’s no rush. No hurry. They’ve got all the time in the world. 

With Felicity, he’s going to do everything he can to stay with her for a long, long time. 

“I love you, too,” he said, wrapping his free arm around her waist as he kept rocking slowly.

Their lovemaking was slow and deep and soft. Neither of them looked away from each other’s eyes, so he saw the moment when her climax hit her. The moment when Felicity might be her most beautiful.

That’s not true—the most beautiful he ever saw her be was the moment she said yes to his proposal, when they stood in the alley outside Verdant as the rain poured down on them. The moment when all hope seemed lost but he knew it really wasn’t as long as she was still with him. And he was asking her to marry him before he even realized it, but meaning the words with every part of his soul. 

But watching Felicity Queen have an orgasm caused by him is pretty damn gorgeous, Oliver thought as he followed her over the edge. 

XXX

“Mmmmmm …” Felicity murmured as she woke up, feeling Oliver’s stubble rub against her hip. “Whatcha doin’?” 

“Entertaining myself,” he said, a smirk in his voice. “Since you kept sleeping.” 

She lifted her arms over her head and stretched, enjoying how she felt. Because right now, Felicity felt amazing. Loose and free and so incredibly happy. 

Mostly because of the man resting his chin on her belly, gazing up at her with his heart in his eyes. 

God, she hoped she never let herself reveal, in one of her babbles, how much she liked that look on him. Yes, Oliver’s body was a work of art. Yes, his face was as gorgeous as a model’s. But his best look? Was when he looked at her like that, his eyes soft and filled with love, the features relaxed and his mouth curved in a gentle smile. 

For a man who said there was so much hardness and darkness inside him, Oliver Queen was a big, gooey marshmallow of a man sometimes. 

And the knowledge that she caused him to look like that? It made a girl feel like a woman. 

A married woman, in fact. 

Smiling, she rubbed her thumb against her rings, then reached out to stroke his hair. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Oliver. I don’t know why I needed sleep, since I’ve barely left this bed since we got here … wait. Maybe that’s why.” 

Oliver snickered, a sound she thought she’d never hear him make, and crawled up her body to kiss her lightly. “Is that your way of saying you want to go out on the beach?” 

She kissed him back and hummed against his lips. “I’d like to get some more sun.” 

“Okay,” he said, brushing his nose against her cheek. “We can have lunch, too.” 

“Perfect,” she said, kissing his cheek and slipping out from underneath him. “Last one outside has to put sunblock on the other.”

“We’re gonna do that already,” he said, giving her a gloriously smug smirk. “No skin cancer for the Queens.” 

Feeling the same shiver she was pretty sure she would always get at being called that kind of team, Felicity tossed him a small smile. “Okay, loser has to go get lunch.” 

He frowned. “I know it’s gonna be me. No way I’m letting you go up to the hotel in one of your bikinis.” 

Felicity grinned to herself as she sauntered towards the bathroom, pausing to look back at him just before she stepped inside. “That was my plan, yes.” 

His laughter filled the villa and Felicity couldn’t help joining him as she dashed into the bathroom to get ready. 

When she stepped out, dressed in a pale green bikini that shimmers in the light like fish scales, the villa is empty and she knew Oliver was already out on the beach, probably getting towels laid out on lounge chairs and opening the sun umbrellas. So she scooped up her beach bag, plopped her straw hat on her head, and walked out onto the sand.

The bright light makes her squint a little. Or maybe it’s the sight of her husband, wearing dark swim trunks and nothing else, his eyes covered by sunglasses and his muscles flexing as he steadied one of the umbrellas in the heavier-than-normal breeze. 

How did she wind up here? How did Felicity Smoak, the girl from Vegas who liked computers, end up like this, with love and happiness and a bigger purpose in her life? 

She’s still not sure how it happened. But she knew it started when a recently-returned-from-the-dead billionaire walked into her office with a broken laptop and the world’s crappiest lie. 

Oliver often said she brought out the best in him, made him be better. He never seemed to understand how much he had done the same for her. How much he had made her into the Felicity she was supposed to be. 

At least now she has the rest of their lives to make him understand that. 

As she approached, he turned around and ran his eyes down her body—she could tell even with the sunglasses. Then he grinned at her. “Like I said, I’m going to the hotel for lunch.” 

She giggled and dropped her bag in the sand, walking up and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Not before sunblock.”

They take care of the sunblock first. And if Oliver got distracted enough to go down on her, and then she returned the favor, before he left to get lunch … well, it’s okay. They _were_ on their honeymoon, after all.


	18. With all his experience, all the women and all the times from before . . .

_With all his experience, all the women and all the times from before, when he was a different man, he has never done something quite like THIS._

Because all those other times, it was sometimes fucking, occasionally screwing, but always sex. But with Felicity, it was always making love. 

Even in the times like right now, which to an outside observer would definitely look like fucking. Although if there was anyone watching this, he would put an arrow in them.

And then Felicity ran her hands down his back and gripped his ass tightly, and Oliver forgot about anything but her.

“Do you know how often I wanted to do that?” she asked, sucking his lower lip into her mouth.

He moaned. “A–a lot? As many times as I wanted to do this?” he asked, his hands moving to her own round, firm, sinful ass.

Felicity pressed back into his hands. “Yes–Oliver, please–” 

Lifting her up, Oliver carried Felicity to the bed, kissing her hungrily. He wanted her so much, wanted everything with her. He wanted so much he didn’t even know where to start. 

“Tell me what you want,” he said, lowering her to the bed but keeping his hands squeezing her ass. 

Her eyes lifted to his, and she bit her lower lip. “Would you–I know it’s not your normal thing, but–could you … talk to me?”

Oliver blinked, then felt a grin spreading across his face. “Felicity Smoak, are you asking me to talk dirty to you?” 

She pouted, in the most adorable, sexy manner ever. “Yes, okay, I am. You know me, you can’t tell me you’re surprised.”

“No … not surprised,” he said slowly, even though he was a little. Not because dirty talk turned Felicity on–but that she was so nervous asking him to give her what she wanted. 

Maybe he just hadn’t proved recently that if it was her asking, he would do it.

Leaning in slowly, he kept his eyes locked on hers until the last moment, when he tilted his head and brought his lips to her ear. “Words make you hot. It’s so sexy, Felicity.” 

It wasn’t just the words that were going to make her hot, he knew. It was also the fact that he had lowered his voice a little–nowhere near Arrow territory, but definitely a bit rougher and raspier than his normal tone. 

From the way she shivered as soon as he started speaking, he was on the right track.

He stretched out beside her, one hand lightly stroking her stomach as he kept whispering into her ear.

“But then, everything about you is sexy,” he continued. “Sexy, hot, alluring. You make me hard just walking into the room. Because you have the best walk, with your hips swaying and your ass moving under your dresses. Do you know what I want to do to you?”

“N-no …?” she said, her eyes huge and blue and her cheeks flushed. The rise and fall of her chest was becoming more pronounced. 

It was tempting to smirk at her, act the playboy. But there was nothing about this that was about toying with her or being selfish. This was about Felicity. So he just gazed at her as he spoke.

“I want to bend you over the nearest table. Slowly push your dress up and touch your bare ass. Would you like that, Felicity?” 

She nodded, her head whipping up and down. 

“Mmm, yeah, you’d like that,” he said, letting his finger circle her belly button but never dipping into the indentation. “You’d like my hands stroking your ass, squeezing it, pinching it. And I’d like it, too. Your ass should be worshipped, Felicity. And I’m the man to do it.” 

“Yes–yes, you,” she panted, her body arching up. “Oliver …” 

Oliver inched his fingers lower, pausing halfway between her navel and the waistband of her panties. 

“What kind of panties are you wearing, Felicity? When I start rubbing your ass, like I want to smack it, but I won’t because I don’t want to hurt you like that?” 

The struggle within her is visible in her eyes. Her mind is spinning out fantasies, imagining all the different answers she could give him, calculating which one will get her desired result. The result her body wants, the one she’s aching for.

The one he’s aching for as well, he thought as he shifted a little on the bed, damning himself for keeping his jeans on.

Finally, she moaned out her answer. “Nothing. I–I’m naked under my dress. For you, Oliver.” 

God, she is so amazing. Blushes and dirty words, hard head and soft heart, his present and his future. 

That made him slide his hand down, into her panties, and cup her. “I love you, Felicity. I love you so much. You can feel it, when I press up against you. You could feel how my cock just wants to be inside you.”

Felicity moaned, a long, slow, breathless moan. His already-hard cock feels like it’s about to split the zipper of his jeans, it wants room so much. Room, and then to find a home inside her. 

He’s got to move this along. “You’re so wet, you’re practically dripping,” he said, his voice growing rough. He slid his fingers through her folds, and then dipped inside her with one finger, before slowly slipping two fingers into her. 

She gasped and jerked, and Oliver’s not sure if she’s listening–he’s not sure if she can even hear–but he kept going. “It makes me so hot. Too hot to wait. I slide into you, my Felicity, mine, and I just start thrusting as hard and as fast and as deep as I can.” 

“Yes!” Felicity hissed, her hips arching. “More.” 

His hips start unconsciously mimicking her movements, although he’s just grinding against the bedspread at this point. “The angle is really working for you,” Oliver said, continuing his story. Imagining that the story he’s telling is true, even as he fingered Felicity and heightened the sensations for her. 

“Gonna make you come so hard,” he groaned as her muscles tighten even more around his fingers. He brought his thumb to her clit, playing with it as he rushed to some kind of conclusion to this story. 

“I get lost in you,” he said finally, swirling his fingers inside her. “You’re grunting a little and moving back against me, and my God, Felicity, you are so perfect–if you told me not to come, I wouldn’t.”

Felicity whimpered. “Nooooooo … I want you to come, too. P-please, Oliver, now, please!” 

Oliver’s nearly lost his control. He kept up his movements, but making them firmer, less teasing. “Okay, Felicity, I’m going to come, too,” he crooned softly, using his knees to hold him up enough to push his sweatpants and boxer-briefs down. “I’m gonna fill you up.” 

This isn’t the first time he’s talked to a woman in bed. But it’s the first time he got so hot, so ready, that he didn’t need any foreplay. Instead, he yanked away Felicity’s panties and made his way home, her body adjusting to his after a week without each other. 

And Felicity’s more than ready for him. Like she has been since their first time together, the time that shimmered in his memories from all the emotions attached to it. Mostly bad ones, but with plenty of light and happiness, even though it was shadowed by the unknown they couldn’t anticipate.

Tonight, though, it’s just him and Felicity. No interruptions or ceremonies or last nights or goodbyes.

Tonight is about each other. About how they’re going to take out the newest crime lord, about whose turn is it to buy the milk, about nights on the couch watching movies and mornings making breakfast and tripping over each other’s shoes as they walk past the doorway to the living room.

Most of all, it’s about love. And that was why Oliver took only four strokes to climax, Felicity immediately following him.

Slumping down on top of her, Oliver remembered another element of his playboy days: never spending the night. Get out and get out fast, with nothing sincere in your ‘I’ll call you’ or ‘see you around’. No, you got in, got what you wanted, and got out.

That’s not who he is anymore. He’s not Ollie Queen, the playboy who’s heir to billions, the guy who gets drunk and steals a police car.

His name is Oliver Queen, and he’s right where he’s supposed to be.


	19. “I never thought THERE would be an erogenous zone.”

_“I never thought THERE would be an erogenous zone.”_

Which honestly was a sign of how scrambled her brain was. Because your skin was your body’s biggest organ, full of nerve endings, so why should she be surprised at Oliver getting turned on by her fingers touching a spot that wasn’t your normal erogenous zone? Because after all, his whole body was covered with skin.

But still. She hadn’t expected touching the inside of his wrist to make him react like … that.

He was walking ahead of her–walking away from her. Their tempers were rising, both of them itching for a fight. Nothing had gone right lately: missions had only been completed with a lot of improvisation, their daytime schedules were totally out of sync, and they hadn’t made love in days. They’d barely had the time to kiss before they fell into bed, utterly exhausted. 

So they were both irritable, distracted and next to useless. That was how Felicity felt, at least. She hadn’t been able to help herself tonight: she had tried to pick a fight with Oliver, to let these feelings out. She was in the middle of baiting him before she had even realized she had started. 

And then he turned his back on her, heading towards the door of her apartment. The stab of remorse and regret and, deep down, fear, was so strong and all-encompassing that Felicity knew she couldn’t let him leave. 

“Oliver–no, stop, I’m sorry–” she said, dashing after him and cursing her heels. She managed to catch his arm, her fingers sliding down to wrap around his wrist. 

He went utterly still and Felicity frowned, wondering why she could feel his pulse pick up as she held his wrist. 

Then he was whirling around and grabbing her own wrists, pushing her back against the nearest wall as he devoured her mouth with his own. 

Her confusion vanished, swept away by the lust and desire and love. Because she loved kissing him and he was nipping at her lips and oh, God, he lifted her arms over her head, his hands like manacles around her wrists and his hips trapping her against the wall. Like he thought she needed to be caged and held with his body. 

Escape was the last thing on her mind. 

“God, you are hot when you’re angry,” Oliver muttered against her lips. “I wanna make you scream.” 

“You–you always do,” she panted, her body already trembling and ready. “You drive me crazy.” 

His grin was lightning-fast and cocky as he let go of her hands. “We’re both crazy,” he said, his fingers fumbling with the zipper of her dress. “Crazy in love.” 

“You are so damn sappy,” she said, yanking his sweater up and over his head. “I can’t believe I love that about you. It should make me roll my eyes.” 

“You love it,” he echoed, rocking his hips against her and making her gasp. “Just like I love how you don’t take any of my shit.” 

“Ha,” she said breathily. “Do you?” 

Oliver pushed her dress down from her shoulders, his hands immediately cupping and stroking her breasts through her bra. “Even when it was so fucking annoying,” he said, twisting her nipples with just a slight lessening of his usual gentle touch. “Like you locking me out of my system.”

Leaning her head back and arching her chest to increase his contact with her breasts, Felicity swallowed. “You don’t wanna know, what I wanted to do to you, when you got in my space that time.” 

“What, Felicity?” he asked, his hands stilling on her breasts. 

Moaning, Felicity tried to hold back her whimper. Whether it was from frustration or irritation, she wasn’t sure. “I wanted to punch you in your smug, arrogant face. And then …” 

“What?” he asked again, leaning closer to her, his voice low and deep and just like it had been that day, so early in their relationship but way too late for either of them to stop what was already happening. To stop them ending up right here, right now. 

Felicity licked her lips, unable to help herself at the hungry, desperate look Oliver was giving her. “This.” 

And she started unbuckling his belt and his jeans, as she lowered herself to her knees. 

“Oh, holy shit,” Oliver moaned, his voice equal parts shock and arousal. 

She can’t help grinning up at him as she pulled him from his jeans, her hand stroking his hard shaft. “Not expecting that?” 

Shaking his head, Oliver sucked in a breath. “N-no. Really?”

“Really,” she said, wrapping one hand around his base. He’s working very hard to hold himself still, and she hasn’t even started. They’re both on the edge, but she wanted him to be first. Wanted him to just let go. 

The moment when she wrapped her lips around him, Felicity felt all the anger and frustration start to evaporate. Sure, she was still wound up, but … but knowing that she can make Oliver feel peace? That he’ll relax and be able to breathe thanks to her? 

It’s everything. 

Of course, the fact that she knew there was no way he’d let them leave this apartment without taking care of her, too, just made her love him even more. 

At first, she just slide her mouth up and down his cock, savoring the silky-over-firm texture of him. She can see his hands twitching at his sides–she knew he wants to bury them in her hair and hold her, but he didn’t move. 

Reaching between his legs, she began massaging his balls as she bobbed her head up and down his length. Oliver let out a strangled groan. “Felicity–” he choked out.

He was still holding back. Felicity reached out and gently wrapped her fingers around his wrist, stroking her thumb against his skin.

His reaction is nearly immediate: he shuddered and jerked in her mouth, almost like he’s about to fall on top of her. She actually stopped rolling his balls to prop him up, her hand stroking his abs right over the tattooed line of Chinese characters, and then he’s coming in her mouth. 

And even though this is not her favorite thing to do, she takes him all, running her hands over him. 

When she pulled away and looked up at him, Felicity smiled softly. Because she can see her Oliver again, after not seeing him for the last few days. Her silly, loving, amazing Oliver. 

Standing up slowly, Felicity slid her arms around his waist and held him. Oliver dropped his head onto her shoulder, breathing slowly. “I love you,” he breathed out. 

“I love you, too,” Felicity said softly, stroking his back. “Feel better? Less angry?”

He nodded, then huffed out a laugh. “Although the fact that you did that, so I can’t follow through on my plans, should make me angry. But I feel too good.”

“There’s always later,” Felicity said, nipping his lower lip. “And I’m not sending my vigilante out onto the streets all sexually frustrated.”

Oliver laughed. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Have you spend all night growling in my ear? No, thank you.” 

When he lifted his head from her shoulder, his eyes are narrowed, intense. Penetrating. 

“Well, I can’t go out on the streets with my IT girl all hot and bothered,” he said, his hand sliding over her stomach and diving into her panties. 

Oh, fuck, how had she forgotten she was in her underwear? 

“Oliver–” she groaned as his oh-so-clever, perfectly-sized fingers began exploring every inch of her. Because trust him to just go right to the normal erogenous zones.

And that night, everyone else on Team Arrow noticed that the Arrow and their IT support were much more relaxed and pleasant than they had been over the last week. 

Which meant that Digg won the pool. 

End.


	20. he’s got his hands between her knees

“I can’t believe how empty this theater is!” Felicity gave him a bright smile before turning to walk up the stairs to the top of the stadium-style theater. 

“It’s eleven-thirty on a Sunday,” he said, letting his eyes drift down her back as he followed her.

A heat wave sweeping through Starling made the thought of getting into his leathers unbearable–and since crime was fairly under control, the team had all decided to take the night off. Which meant, to Felicity’s delight and Oliver’s amusement, they were seeing a movie.

Well, not exactly his amusement. He would have preferred they stayed home and entertained each other. In their bed. But Felicity was just so excited for this movie and there was no way he was letting her go by herself, so …

Felicity plopped down in the middle of the back row, wiggling in her seat a little and making Oliver’s mouth go dry for a moment. “Popcorn, please,” she said, gesturing for him to put the tub of popcorn in her lap. 

With a small smile, Oliver handed her the popcorn and sat down beside her. He sipped from his bottle of water and they chatted while waiting for the previews. When the lights went down without anyone else in the theater, Oliver started to get an idea. 

It only took him ten minutes to realize this movie was pretty awful. He wasn’t sure why Felicity wanted to see it, but a bad movie certainly helped his plans. But this would only really work if Felicity was bored, too. 

And from the way she was shifting in her seat and pursing her lips, she was. 

Oliver rested his hand on her knee, revealed by the skirt of her sundress. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “This is bad, right?” 

She sighed–but also let out a little shiver as he stroked her knee. “I’m so disappointed. All the buzz online was so positive!” 

Grinning, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

“You didn’t make the movie,” she said, turning to look at him. “But thank you.” She gave him a smile and pecked his lips before leaning back to slide down a little in her seat.

It was like she was reading his mind. But they had an hour and a half at least–no point in rushing this. He felt like keeping it slow tonight. 

So he left his hand on her knee, letting his fingers slowly start to trace circles and lines against her skin. She glanced at him once or twice, but didn’t seem too surprised by his actions. After all, they were both touchy-feely when it came to each other.

When he slid his hand up her leg a little, but in still perfectly respectable territory, he watched her face in the light from the movie screen. Her eyes were ahead, but he could see her lips moving: pressing together then pursing, her teeth occasionally sinking into her lower lip. 

He was getting to her. Oliver smiled and resumed the seemingly-mindless stroking, this time on the inside of her thigh. Her skin was so soft and smooth and warm, he actually let himself get lost in the simple act of touching her. 

But then she shifted, moving a little under his hand, and Oliver could feel how her skin felt warmer than before. 

Definitely time to move this along. 

He slid his hand nearly all the way up her thigh, provoking a small squeak from Felicity. “Oliver?” she whispered, drawing out the syllables of his name. 

God, when she said his name like that … his cock, already half at attention, hardened more. He pulled his hand away and turned quickly in his chair, pushing the armrest up. 

“Oliver,” she said, sliding a hand into his hair and pulling him in for a long, slow kiss. They kissed lazily, one of his arms going around her shoulders while his other hand returned to her leg, stroking high on her inner thigh. High enough that he could feel the heat coming off her. 

“What if someone comes in?” she asked against his lips, her hips just barely arching.

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, moving his lips to kiss along her jaw. When he reached her ear, he nipped at her ear before whispering, “You’ll just have to be quiet.” 

Her whole body tensed, her hand gripping the back of his head tightly, and Oliver hid his smile against her neck. And then he rubbed her over her damp, lacy underwear. 

“Yessss,” she hissed, pressing against his hand. 

“Shhh,” he warned her, kissing her lightly. 

He could see her nod and then sink her teeth into her lower lip–the sexiest thing in the world, her white teeth biting into her pink lip–as he kept touching her. He didn’t really seek out her clit, he just slid his fingers back and forth, massaging her and making the damp patch grow larger. 

When her hips started moving rhythmically against his hand, he leaned in to kiss her softly. His body felt on fire when she kissed him back hungrily, both of her arms wrapping around his neck and holding on with everything she had. 

And then he slid his hand up and tugged at the waistband of her panties. 

“Oh, God, yes,” she said, lifting her hips and letting him draw the silky lace down. “Stop teasing.” 

“But we have so much time, Felicity …” he said, grinning at her as she mock-glared at him. 

“I want your fingers inside me,” she said, holding his eyes and making him feel like he was going to come in his jeans. 

He kissed her hard, cupping her, and then gritted out through his teeth, “Since it’s you asking–” 

Without any further delay, he slid one finger inside her warm, moist, tight heat, past the second knuckle. 

Felicity let out a high-pitched noise that he cut off by kissing her. He kept his mouth close to hers as he thrust his finger slowly in and out of her. His thumb brushed lightly against her clit, making her whimper. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Felicity …” 

Her arms had loosened to rest on his shoulders, her fingers spasming and clutching at his shirt. In the flashes of light from the movie playing in front of them, he could see her flushed cheeks, could see how big her eyes were behind her glasses, could see her chest heaving. 

Oliver wanted to look at her like this every day for the rest of his life. 

Gently adding another finger, he kept his focus on her, the somewhat-awkward angle of his body keeping his dick somewhat in check. Until Felicity started making little pants when he circled his thumb around her clit, never applying direct pressure. 

“O-O-Oliver,” she stuttered, lifting her hips and trying to get him to touch her where she wanted him. 

“Are you close?” he asked, leaning in to whisper in her ear. 

She nodded, biting her lip again. 

“Do you want to come?” he said, lowering his voice and seeing her shiver. 

Her head jerked up and down, and Oliver kissed her neck. “Say it, Felicity.” 

“I want to come,” she said, with no hesitation or shyness. “I want you to make me come.” 

Oh, _fuck_ him. 

Oliver turned her head and kissed her hungrily as he slid his fingers deep inside and started massaging against the muscles there. At the same time, he moved his thumb to her clit and pressed against it, rubbing the small bundle up and down, back and forth, and in a circle. 

Felicity’s whole body, every gorgeous inch of her, went absolutely still and rigid. And then he could feel her body contract, her walls gripping his fingers _so hard_ and coating his hand with her moisture as she came so damn hard, Oliver had a split-second to worry if he would have trouble using his bow over the next few days. 

If nothing else, he’d remember this whenever he used this hand, he thought, swallowing her groans with his mouth. 

He drew out her climax, gently stroking her and watching the dazed contentment settle over her face. Her eyes were closed and her breathing had finally started to even out when he was ready to pull his hand away from her. 

There was a stack of napkins on the armrest on Felicity’s other side, but Oliver ignored them. “Felicity?” he said quietly. 

“Hmm?” she asked, slowly opening her eyes to look at him. 

Lifting his hand, he didn’t look away from her as he ran his tongue over the palm of the hand he had been using on her. Her eyes immediately sparked with desire as she watched him. Watched as he cleaned her sticky-sweet juices from his palm and then from each finger. Before he reached his thumb, though, Felicity lazily reached out and took his wrist. 

“Wha–” he started to ask, only to go absolutely speechless as she popped his thumb into her mouth, sucking slowly on it. Her tongue moved around the digit in her mouth, and her eyes were staring into his, and oh holy _shit_ he was hard as a rock and she was licking herself off his thumb and if she didn’t stop he might just come in his jeans. 

Daintily, Felicity pulled his thumb out of her mouth and then dropped his hand, letting it fall to rest on his leg. He blinked as she leaned forward at the waist, tugging off her cardigan. 

“F-Felicity?” he asked, feeling like his brain was moving much too sluggishly to do anything but stare at her.

“I need something for my knees,” she said, folding the cardigan into a rectangle and then sliding out of her chair to rest between his legs. She put the cardigan on the floor, settled her knees on it, and then leaned forward to undo his belt and pop the button of his jeans.

Oh, Jesus fuck. 

“Now,” she said, her hands resting on his knees. “You’ll just have to be quiet, Oliver. Can you do that for me?” 

He nodded eagerly, one hand gripping the armrest of his chair. 

Felicity smiled brightly at him. “Great.” And then she leaned forward to pull down his zipper with her teeth. 

They really needed to see more movies.

End.


	21. Don’t It Make My Blue Eyes Green

When Felicity spent a week in Central City, helping Barry with some kind of computer bandit, Oliver understood. There was no one better than his girlfriend at dealing with technology. She had kept him alive until he realized it wasn’t just her skills that made him want to live. 

It was her. 

So yeah, he understood. Although the fact that she went back to Central City a week later, and this time for two weeks, that was annoying. 

But the straw that broke the camel’s back was finding out today, when she had been back in Starling City less than two weeks, that she was going back to Central City _again_ and this time to help Ray Fucking Palmer …

Oliver knew he was being unfair. He knew that Ray was actually a nice guy (although honestly, he didn’t always see it, because the guy was a little too single-minded for Oliver’s liking) and he knew that Felicity didn’t have any interest in Ray like that. 

But damn it, why did his girlfriend keep getting roped into helping these other guys, taking her away from Starling City, from their mission, from … him?

“I just don’t get it–it’s not like Cisco and Ray aren’t both geniuses,” Oliver said grumpily, slouching in his chair. Felicity had been gone ten days now, and he was starting to feel uneven from the lack of her in his life. He had invited Thea and Roy over for dinner, since Felicity had turned him into the kind of guy who liked having company at dinner. Who liked being able to tell someone about his day, and hear about other people’s days.

His sister and his protegee exchanged looks. Oliver frowned, because it really looked like they were playing a silent, mental game of rock-paper-scissors. Roy must have lost, because he sighed and turned to Oliver. 

“Yeah, but Felicity is smarter than both of them. Put together.”

“She is,” Oliver said, unable to hold back his smile. And then he remembered he was brooding about this, and went back to frowning. “But it just doesn’t stop. And they keep telling other people about her. She said she got a call from some girl who claims she’s an alien and needed Felicity to explain how to hack video cameras to delete footage of this so-called alien flying around Metropolis.”

Roy opened and then closed his mouth and Thea must have taken pity on her boyfriend.

“You really don’t see it, Ollie?” she said, leaning forward. “Felicity’s superhero catnip.”

He blinked. “What?”

Thea smiled a little. “Felicity’s all sunshine and steel. She knows how to keep you superheroes in line. And all of you–Barry, Ray, and most definitely you–like that. So that’s why they keep calling: they need a little Felicity Smoak magic.”

“But that’s not fair!” The words are out of his mouth so quickly that Oliver felt his cheeks go red, especially with how Thea reacted. Her eyebrows went up, and she looked back at Roy, who was looking very amused. Damn him.

“And why is it not fair?” Thea asked, sounding like she knew exactly what he was going to say. 

And he should probably be embarrassed about admitting this, but … “She was mine first,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. 

Thea cracked up. “Seriously, Ollie?” she said between her giggles. Roy, the traitor, was snorting and helping Thea not fall out of her chair. 

“Yes! She should be here and–and it’s not fair.” 

Great. He had completely regressed to his six-year-old self. And he knew–he just _knew_ –that Thea was planning a very dramatic reenactment of this moment for Felicity. Not when Felicity came back–oh, no. His sister was a lot more cunning than that. 

“Look, if you feel like that, maybe you should just …” Roy began, before pausing, like he was reconsidering. 

“What?” Oliver said, leaning forward and locking eyes with him. “What were you going to say?”

“Maybe you should just go after her,” Roy said. He looked at Thea. “Girls like that kind of romantic shit, right?” 

Thea rolled her eyes. “Not all of them, otherwise why would I be with your sorry ass?” 

“That’s not what you said last night–” 

Oliver stood up. “I have to go.” 

“Ollie, wait,” Thea said, jumping to her feet and following him. “Are you sure about this? Felicity might not see what this is really about.” 

“Of course she will–she’s Felicity,” he said, heading towards their room to throw some clothes in a bag. “She’ll know it’s because I missed her.” 

His sister rubbed her forehead. “Okay, but still, Ollie–”

“Speedy, it’s going to be okay,” he said, quickly kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll drive down to Central City, Felicity and I will talk things over, and hopefully I can get her to come home with me. You and Roy can take care of things here, with Laurel’s help.” 

She sighed tiredly and nodded. “Yeah, we’ve got it. Go have fun with Felicity.” 

With a grin, he lifted his duffel. “We will. I’ll call you tomorrow.” His mind was already filled with planning for his reunion with Felicity and imagining just how happy she would be to see him, Oliver didn’t even consider why his sister seemed so worried about this idea.

XXX

When he arrived in Central City, it was mid-morning. He had stopped to grab a few hours of sleep, although like always, he didn’t sleep well without Felicity. But it was enough to get him to STAR Labs. 

He pulled out his phone as soon as he arrived and sent Felicity a text. _hey. how’s it going?_

Within a moment, he got back three texts, complaining about Ray and how he should just admit she was smarter than him.

Score one for Oliver Queen: he was well-aware that Felicity Smoak was smarter than him. And he had no problem saying that, anytime or anywhere. 

A small smirk on his face, Oliver made his way towards the group of labs that Ray had started using, feeling more positive than he had since this had all started. He had two cups of coffee in his hands and he had already called Felicity’s hotel and asked for her things to be moved to a suite. Because he had plans for tonight. And this afternoon. 

But his good mood vanished when he reached the lab and saw Felicity. Because … she was running her hands all over Ray. Ray, who was half-in his really, really stupid suit, the one he could barely use because the guy couldn’t throw a punch to save his life. Or someone else’s life. 

For a moment, his vision grayed out a little, remembering controlling the ATOM suit and seeing that metahuman choking Felicity. The flirty greeting he had planned vanished and he stomped into the room. 

“Why the hell are you spending more time with every other superhero in the world than with me?” 

Felicity whirled around, her eyes the size of marbles behind her glasses. “Oliver?!?” 

“Yeah, Oliver,” he said, stalking towards her. “Oliver Queen, the Arrow. I feel like I need to introduce myself, since you haven’t seen me in so long.” 

“Hey, yeah, that’s my fault,” Ray said, his floppy hair falling into his eyes and a big dumb grin on his face. “But Felicity–”

“I’m well aware of whose fault it is that my partner is never in Starling City,” Oliver said through gritted teeth. 

His words were like a rock falling into a pond. “What the hell did you say?” Felicity said, stepping towards him, her fists clenched at her sides. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver saw Ray edge away from them. “I’m just–I’m gonna go.”

“Do that,” Oliver barked, not looking away from Felicity. Their battle of wills was silent and confined to their eyes until there was the sound of a door opening and closing. “You heard me,” he said to Felicity. 

“You did _not_ just come storming in here like that, acting like you get to control what I do and who I do it with!” Felicity said, lifting her chin up. 

“I do when you’re risking people’s lives! I’m sorry if I think the people in Starling City matter more, when they’ve been through so much more than everyone here in Central City,” Oliver insisted, his voice low and hard. And no, he was not at all turned on by Felicity yelling at him. No. He was mad at her for always being at Barry and Ray and anyone-other-than-him’s beck and call. 

Felicity’s eyes snapped with anger. “This isn’t about Starling City or Central City or any other city! This is about you being jealous of me being around other men.” 

“That’s not it at all,” Oliver said, stepping closer to her, hiding his hand behind his back. Because if she saw his thumb rubbing against his fingers, she’d know she was getting to him. “I’m not jealous.” 

“Yes, you are! You’ve never liked Ray, you’ve never liked Barry, because they showed interest in me before you realized how you felt about me!” 

“That’s not even true–I’ve always known how I felt about you!” Oliver insisted, feeling him lose his grip on his temper. Not caring anymore about this stupid fight, just wanting this to be over. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you!”

Her shoulders slumped, all the fight draining out of her, and Oliver felt very scared. “You have a funny way of showing it,” she said, her arms slowly wrapping around her.

Oh, _shit_. Shit shit shit shit shit! “Felicity–Felicity, I’m sorry,” he said immediately, feeling his heart drop to his shoes. “I–I’m sorry,” he repeated, not sure what to say. 

Slowly, each second feeling like a lifetime, she raised her head and looked at him. “Why did you come here, Oliver?” 

“I … I missed you,” he said, his hands reaching out hesitantly. When she didn’t move away, he lightly cupped her elbows. “I missed having your voice in my ear. I missed coming back to the Foundry and having you ask me how it went. And most of all, I missed going home with you and holding you.” 

She blinked. “I don’t understand.” 

Oliver took a moment, his thumbs rubbing against her skin–God, she was so soft and it had been so damn long since he had touched her–before he spoke. “Thea … she said you were superhero catnip.” 

“I’m what?” Felicity asked, her eyebrows raising towards her hairline. 

“You bring out the best in guys like Ray and Barry and me,” Oliver said, pulling her a bit closer. “We can’t do this without your help.” 

“That is so ridiculous,” Felicity said, her cheeks going pink. “And even if it is true, it doesn’t matter how much Ray or Barry or anyone needs me.” 

He searched her face. “It doesn’t?” 

Felicity smiled softly at him, and holy fucking hell, he could come just from the way she was smiling at him. 

“Nope,” she said, going up on her tiptoes, her lips hovering so close yet so far from his. “Because I’m a one-vigilante kind of woman.” She paused and then poked him in the chest. “You got that?” 

“One-vigilante woman. Got it,” Oliver said, nodding eagerly. “Can I kiss you now?” 

“You could have kissed me the moment you walked in if you hadn’t started yelling at me,” Felicity said, closing the gap and pressing her lips against his and …

It had been too long. Way too long. He felt too emotional and tense for this, but suddenly all he wanted to do was be with Felicity. To come home. 

Cupping her face in his hands, Oliver kissed her hungrily. She tasted so damn good, and he had missed kissing her so much, and he just wanted to get her to make that little half-moan, half-sigh that he loved hearing. 

Her hands were gripping his shoulders, but she was too far away. So he dragged his fingers from her cheeks, down her back, and then slid his hands under her ass–oh, _Jesus_ , he had really missed touching her ass–and lifted her up. 

“Oliver,” she stuttered, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Oooh …”

Jackpot!

Grinning widely at her, he kissed her as he walked them towards a wall. “Yeah, Felicity?” 

“We–we shouldn’t–not here–” she said, rolling her hips against his and making him let out a moan of his own. 

“Do you know when was the last time we made love, Felicity?” he said, holding her eyes with his own. “It was twelve days ago. _Twelve_ , Felicity.” 

He was pretty sure he could hear her heart rate increase. “God, that’s really long,” she said, pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Forever,” he said against her lips, then groaned when she nipped his lower lip. 

“This is such a bad idea,” Felicity said, right before her fingers went to his shirt and yanked hard, sending two buttons flying.

Oliver grinned widely at her. “Wrong. Best idea. Best idea ever.” 

“Just so you know,” Felicity said, pulling back suddenly and making him stare at her. “I’m not doing this because you got all caveman jealous on me.”

It took a minute for his upstairs brain to start working enough for him to understand her words. “Yeah?” he said slowly, hoping that was a safe response.

“Yeah,” she said, her fingers oh-so-lightly stroking his upper chest and she was going to _kill_ him. “It’s because you came after me. And because … it was about me working with Ray and Barry, not about me being interested in Ray and Barry.” 

“That’s what I said,” he reminded her, leaning in to pepper her lips with kisses. “You’re my genius. The Arrow needs his IT girl.” 

“I thought you stopped doing that third person thing,” Felicity said, smiling at him as he kissed her for real. 

Neither of them were up for a long, slow lovemaking. But it didn’t matter. They had plenty of time. 

But when he slid inside her, feeling her clench around him, Oliver felt himself shudder. He couldn’t lose this. Couldn’t lose her. 

“Shhhh,” Felicity whispered. “I’m here. Always, Oliver.” 

He didn’t know if he had spoken his fear aloud or if Felicity had just known. But then, it wasn’t a stretch to think she could read his mind. 

“Felicity,” he said, sucking on her neck. Wanting to take her over the edge with him. He moved his lips higher, nipping at her earlobe and making her gasp. 

“Yes–Oliver, yes,” she moaned, holding on to him tighter. 

Hiking her legs up higher around his waist, Oliver held on to her as he plunged into her, as hard and deep as he could. She started shaking, the sign of a really good orgasm about to hit her, so Oliver covered her mouth with his, taking in her scream as she climaxed.

And the feel of her was so right and perfect and true, he was coming with her and everything made sense again. 

Everything.

XXX

“I can’t believe we did that,” Felicity said, holding his hand tightly while her other hand wrapped around his bicep. 

“I can,” Oliver said, stealing a kiss as he hurried her out of STAR Labs. “Twelve days, Felicity.” 

“It’s both sweet and a little bit creepy that you knew that, Oliver,” she said, her nose wrinkling. 

He laughed, ducking his head. “I guess. But I had a lot of time to remember our last time. And to think about our next one.” 

“God, me, too,” she groaned. “Don’t ever let me do anything like this last month, okay?”

“Damn right I’m not letting you–wait, I thought I couldn’t tell you what to do?” he asked, smirking a little even as he was actually asking her for real. 

Felicity nibbled on her lower lip, and his cock got even harder, but Oliver pushed aside his body’s response to focus on what she was going to say. 

“Remember how you said that if it was me asking, you’d do it?”

Oliver came to a stop, staring at her. She gave him a sheepish smile. “Goes both ways, Oliver.” 

God damn it, why did she tell him something like that when they were in public and he couldn’t make love to her? 

“But asking is different from telling!” she said quickly, putting her hand on his chest. “Remember that.” 

“I will, once I get you back to your hotel and I spend an hour between your legs,” he gritted out, turning and leading her to his car. 

She let out a yelp, and then she was right by his side, her heels clicking loudly against the ground. And Oliver grinned and squeezed her hand, knowing that he had nothing to be jealous about. 

End.


	22. Felicity and Oliver are about to make love . . .

_Felicity and Oliver are about to make love and just as person A (your choice) reaches for a condom, person B requests that they start trying for a family. Of course this makes person A incredibly happy - and turned on. ;)_

“Mmmm … Oliver …” Felicity moaned as he sucked on her neck–it was like he was a vampire, only with minimal biting and a lot of hickeys, which she was fine with, even if it meant she had to keep wearing scarves to work, because she wasn’t about to stop her husband from sucking on her neck–and wiggled against him. She could feel his cock, hard and heavy, against her stomach and she knew he was as ready as she was.

But just as she reached into the drawer of her nightstand for a condom, Oliver stopped her by taking her wrist. “Felicity?” 

“What?” she said, looking at him. “Do I need to get off you? Is it your ribs?” 

“What? Oh, no, no–you’re fine,” he said, still holding her wrist. He actually took both her hands in his own and held them between their bodies, looking up at her with a strange look in his eyes. Actually, it was a look she had seen on his face quite a few times lately: a measuring, thoughtful look, with a healthy dose of hope and longing. 

She had asked him two times what “that face” meant, and Oliver had told her it was something he was thinking over. And even though Felicity wanted to drag it out of him, she knew how Oliver was. She knew he needed time to think things over, really mull anything that was bothering him, before he would be ready to talk. So she had just kissed him, and smiled, and said he knew where to find her when he was ready to talk. And his answering smile had told her that whatever it was, they were okay.

And it looked like he was ready to talk now. 

“Felicity?” he asked, his thumb rubbing against her engagement and wedding rings in the nervous habit he had started not long after they got married. “I’ve been thinking … thinking about our futures.” 

“Yes?” she asked, lacing her fingers through his and holding on. Trying not to sound nervous herself. 

He nodded, looking at her. “I want to have a baby with you,” he said softly, tenderly, his voice so full of love and hope that she felt her heart flutter in her chest.

“You do?” she asked, her mind racing. 

“I do. I have for a long time.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “Ever since Sara was born.” 

Felicity stared at him. “What?” she whispered. 

“I saw you standing there next to Lyla, looking at Sara, and … I knew. If I was going to have kids with anyone, I wanted them to be with you,” Oliver said simply. 

“You want to have kids. With me. Starting now?” Her mind was racing, but it’s nothing compared to how her heart was pounding. Or the way she felt hot and trembly and very turned-on. 

Oliver laughed a little and nodded. “I’d like to start trying now. I know I sprung this on you, but–but I’ve been trying to find a way to talk to you about it and I couldn’t find the words. And when you went for a condom, well …” His voice trailed off and he shrugged his shoulders a little.

After a moment, his face fell a little and he started to pull his hands away. “I’m sorry, I did this all wrong–”

But whatever else he was going to say was cut off when Felicity pressed her lips against his. 

“Yes,” she said in-between deep, hungry kisses. “Yes, Oliver.” 

He yanked his head back and looked at her. “Yes? You–you want to try?”

They should talk. There’s so much that needed to be discussed about having a baby. How to keep it safe, how to adjust their lives for a tiny person, how they can make this work.

But they’ve never done things the traditional way, and if there’s one thing Felicity knows, it’s that she loves Oliver and he loves her, and there is no one else she wanted to have a baby with.

Okay, that’s three things. But the point still stood–they both wanted this, and there was no time like now. And she _might_ have had a fantasy or two about how it would feel to have Oliver inside her without a condom. 

They were ready for this. And if she didn’t have him inside her now she was going to explode. So Felicity nodded her head eagerly before she attacked her husband for their first round of practice. 

Ironically enough, they didn’t really need any practice. Because almost nine months to the day from that night, their daughter was born.


	23. Can you do more of those during-sex-conversations and laughs?

_Can you do more of those during-sex-conversations and laughs?_

_Or the first time they have sex after 3.23 when they have time to spend on it, without deadly assassins listening at the door and Felicity just can’t stop giggling cause there is a naked Oliver Queen in her bed trying to sex her up and OMG when did this become her life. He can be annoyed and try to kiss the giggles right out of her or he can join in the merriment. Whichever. Fluffy smutty fun._

Felicity’s got the giggles. She’s got them _bad_.

And really, this is the least funny situation she’s ever been in. Which is saying something, since she is a woman who was kidnapped by Slade Wilson and went toe-to-toe with Ra’s al Ghul, the Demon’s Head himself.

But having Oliver in her bed? _Naked_ in her bed? This is not a laughing matter. So she shouldn’t be giggling like a twelve-year-old doing one of those male reproductive organ coloring sheets in health class. 

Yet she totally is. 

“Fe-li-ci-ty.” 

Oliver has an unreadable expression on his face, and his voice is carefully neutral. Only the way he draws out her name, making each syllable very, very distinct, hints at what he’s feeling. Which is frustration, she’s pretty sure. Since after all, from all she can tell, their first time together had been his first time in a while, and he’s making it very clear that he’d really like to have sex with her, right now, and yet she can’t stop chortling. 

Chortling! Who in the world even _chortles_ , except old fat men in films made in the 1940s? Felicity Megan Smoak, that’s who.

“I–I’m sorry–I just–” she chokes out, looking at him and knowing she must seem crazy. Probably because she feels crazy: too emotional after a month that started with a night that was both the best and worst of her life, three weeks of agony, and then a week of broken trust, near-death, and nick-of-time escapes. Oh, and a drive off into the sunset with the man who wants to marry her. 

No big deal. Except in the way that it totally is, and she’s totally losing her mind, because how else can she explain laughing when she so desperately wants Oliver and he wants her and there’s _nothing_ in their way now?

Sucking in a breath, she closes her eyes and tries to find some measure of calm. She feels one of Oliver’s big, calloused hands start running through her hair, and it does more to soothe her than anything else has ever. So after a minute or so, she’s able to open her eyes and not immediately burst into giggles again. 

Oliver gives her a small, soft smile. “Okay?” 

She nods. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” 

“It’s okay. It’s better than tears,” Oliver says, scooching closer to her. “I’d be a real mess if you were crying.” 

Slowly, she reaches out and rests her hand on the side of his face, her thumb stroking his cheek slowly and her fingers scratching softly against his bristly hair. His eyelids droop a little and his shoulders slouch a bit. “Mmm,” he murmurs, and it makes her move in to press her lips softly against his. 

“We’ve had enough crying,” she says, meeting his eyes. 

Something sparks in his eyes, something bright and hopeful and so beautiful that she feels breathless. He nods and pulls her in for a kiss, a long, slow, deep one. 

And like that, they’re on the same page. Felicity can feel her body getting hotter and hotter, the more Oliver kisses and touches her. It’s amazing that her bedroom is more intimate and sexy a setting than the red-draped, candle-filled room in Nanda Parbat, but that’s how it feels. Maybe it’s because she’s not worrying about assassins standing outside the door to the room.

Not that she worried about that the first time–Oliver was _very_ good at distracting her from any thoughts at all. 

She can’t help a small giggle and she can feel Oliver grin against her lips. “Uh-oh, are we laughing again?” he says, looking at her as he brushes his nose against hers. 

God, she feels so happy. Like you can see the happiness shining out of her. “Like you don’t feel a bit giddy right now,” she asks him, pushing on his shoulder until he rolls onto his back. 

“Giddy?” he asks, gazing up at her as she swings one leg over him and settles lightly against his abs. “Giddy’s not the word I’d use, Felicity.” 

“Hmm,” she says, stroking his pecs slowly. “Well, that’s how I feel. Giddy. Silly. Like anything is possible and it makes the whole world seem different. Brand-new.” 

Oliver blinks at her, then pulls her down for a mind-blowing kiss, all tongue and lips and even a little bit of teeth, which is just–perfect. 

The next thing she knows, she’s on her back and Oliver is rocking his hips against her center and ooooooooh. 

“Oliver,” she moans, reaching out to grip his shoulders. Holding on for the ride, wanting him so much. Needing him, in a way she’s never let herself need another person. 

He presses a few soft kisses to her neck, then sucks gently for a minute, before a sudden burst of laughter escapes him. “Okay–okay, now I get it,” he says, looking at her with dancing eyes. 

As much as she loves him, she’s feeling very confused and very frustrated. So she just blinks at him, and he smiles wider and shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later,” he says, lowering his head to kiss her. Letting her taste his smile and his laughter. 

And that makes her smile, because this is all she’s ever wanted, all she’s been dreaming about. A moment when they could be happy, together. Without any danger lurking around the corner or doom hovering over their heads. 

Because Oliver’s got an amazing smile and a laugh that she definitely wants to hear a lot more of. 

Their lovemaking is punctuated by sighs and moans–but also grins and giggles, like when Oliver gently tickles her side or when she does a little half-sexy, half-silly shimmy on top of him. And it’s so amazing and perfect and good that Felicity doesn’t want to come. Yet she has Oliver Queen making love with her, so climax is inevitable and inescapable.

But she knows, as she collapses against his chest, that it’s also never-ending. Because now that she’s fully given herself to Oliver? She won’t be content with anything less than at least fifty years of love and laughter and togetherness. 

And she’s going to tell him all about that after she wakes up, and once he explains just exactly what he ‘got’ earlier.


	24. Sleepy morning sex.

_Sleepy morning sex. A month after the porches and sunsets. They could've been on a road-trip cross country or in another country, up to you :)_

Felicity has never been a morning person. Until she’s had two cups of coffee, at least, her mind is so slow and sluggish that she feels like an old Pentium computer. She always used to hate it. 

Now she doesn’t mind. Because she has Oliver to wake up with, and he has ways to wake her up that make her want to go slow. 

Like right now. 

She smiles blissfully, gazing up at him as he rocks into her, smooth and steady and gentle. He’s propped up on his hands, letting her have full access to his chest and abs, and Felicity is taking full advantage of it. 

“You make waking up so much better,” she says softly, spreading her fingers wide as she runs her hands over his pecs. 

Oliver’s smile is brighter than the sunshine coming in through the curtains. There’s no clouds to dim his light now: he’s found his peace and it makes her heart hurt sometimes when she looks at him, because she never thought she’d get to see a happy, at-peace Oliver.

“You make everything better,” he says, taking the sappy words and making them sound so sincere, so true. It’s one of his superpowers, Felicity is convinced, along with his smile. And–oh, yes, the way he moves his hips, just like that? Another superpower. 

“C’mere,” she says, pulling on his shoulders and bringing him down on top of her. She wraps her legs around his hips and arches up against him, needing him closer, needing to share the bubble of utter joy that’s inside of her. 

And he knows. He feels the same way, she knows, because he picks up the pace while still gazing at her with those soft eyes of his, and that’s enough to make her climax in a long, gentle wave. He follows her, breathing her name out against her neck, and Felicity holds on to him tightly. 

Driving off into the sunset is usually the end of the story. But they’re just beginning.


	25. Jealous!Oliver

_Could you maybe write a jealous!Oliver fic? Anything you want could set him off, I just really love fics when he gets all growly and tries not to be possessive or jealous but completely is. Could be at any point in the series, doesn't have to be the Fuckening_

He never used to be jealous before. Hell, if Laurel flirted with somebody, he would have just shrugged. If the girl he was dancing with in a club started rubbing up on another guy, he’d find another girl–or two–and take them home with him.

But with Felicity, it’s different. Not just because they’re in Nanda Parbat and neither of them feel very steady in this new life of theirs, a new life that they share both because they want to and because they have no one else they can drop their masks with. 

No, because … it’s Felicity. The woman he spent nearly a year longing for, waiting for. The woman he loves completely and utterly. And he knows she loves him. He believes her. He trusts her.

Oliver, however, does not trust the world. And if there’s anything his life has taught him, it’s that he’s right to distrust the world.

So when he notices a few of the assassins paying more attention to Felicity during meals, when he observes their eyes lingering on Felicity whenever she walks into the room, he can’t help but wonder if perhaps they’re less broken than he is. If Felicity is here because she’s meant to be with someone other than him. After all, look at how her light has brought out the best in so many people: Roy, Barry, Ray. She’s like catnip to superheroes–why wouldn’t it be the same for members of the League of Assassins?

Everyone knows that Felicity is his. No one would think to touch her or even bother her, because they know what he would do. 

At least, they think they do. Up until the day two of the newest members, cocksure and arrogant, don’t realize that the blonde with the glasses is the woman who’s rumored to hold the new Heir to the Demon in her tiny hands.

They corner Felicity in a corridor, telling her she should wash their feet and show gratitude for acceptance to the compound. Even from the other end of the corridor, Oliver can see the trepidation in Felicity’s eyes, the uncertainty about how to handle this situation. She would know what to do in Starling City–but here, she doesn’t.

But he does. 

Oliver stalks down the hallway, the torches crackling as he passes them, the assassins all moving back against the wall as he walks. His robes, still so foreign and strange when compared to his leathers, do create the menacing impression he needs. He draws up behind the cocky assholes and speaks quietly, his voice even deeper than it used to be as the Arrow.

“This woman is mine.”

He knows it’s not true. Felicity is her own, first and foremost. If she is his, it’s only because she’s chosen to give herself to him. But he’s not about to explain twenty-first century gender politics to his fellow members of a centuries-old cult of killers.

The young assassins turn around slowly and eye him. 

“I am Al Sah-heem,” Oliver says, his eyes cold and hard. “You know who I am. Leave now.”

Behind them, he can see Felicity, schooling her face into blankness. But her eyes give her away. She’s frustrated and worried and … turned on?

It’s enough to give him pause, but then he regains himself and looks back at the two men, who are already edging away. 

Leaving him alone with Felicity, who swallows and grabs his arm. “We have to talk,” she says, leading him towards their room.

Oliver goes with her, bracing himself for this conversation. He knows that Felicity made a choice to join him here, to stay with him no matter what. And he’s pretty sure she understands he’s playing a role. But she still must hate being considered his property.

As soon as they step into the room, Oliver begins to explain. “I’m sorry, but I had to–”

But Felicity’s pressing herself against him, her hands running over his shorn hair and down to his neck, touching his skin as she kisses him hungrily. 

Too shocked to really respond until he’s got answers, Oliver pulls back and looks at her. “Felicity?”

“I’m yours?” she asks, her eyes blue and moist. 

God, he was making her cry? It would be so much easier to deal with an angry, yelling Felicity. But a sad, crying one would make him lose control. 

“Of course you are,” he said automatically, before he stopped and shook his head. “I mean, no, you’re not my property or anything, I just told them that to get them away from you.” 

“I didn’t know what to do,” Felicity admits slowly, her fingers playing with his robes, twisting the various cords and running her hands along any edges. It’s equal parts comforting and flirtatious, and Oliver likes it more than he should.

And he should be thinking about how to stop any future incidents like this. “I can get you a knife. Or give you a refresher on your self-defense.” 

Felicity looks at him for a long moment. “Or you could give me a hickey.” 

_What the hell?_

Her hands fist in his robes and pull him close. “I’ve wanted to be yours since the day we met, pretty much. It goes against everything about third-wave feminism that I believe in. But … I want you to show everyone here that I’m yours.” 

When she uses that low, honeyed tone of voice, Oliver had always given in a little bit faster than all the other times she asked something of him. This time is no exception, although he tries to hold back. 

“Are you sure?”

“Damn it, Oliver, give me a hickey and then screw my brains out, so I can scream your name when I come and give everyone a show.” 

Any man would need a moment to process all that. Oliver tries to fit all the pieces of this puzzle together and finally splutters out, “You–you shouldn’t have to do that.”

She gives him a small, sassy smile. “Who says I don’t want to scream your name when I come? You might not realize this, Oliver, but I’ve been holding back on just how vocal I am in bed.”

No. He had not realized that. And just like before with the assassins, he feels himself rising to meet this challenge. 

Oliver lowers his lips to the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and kisses softly. Her whole body relaxes, like you do after sighing, and Oliver wrapped his arms around her, holding her in place as he peppers kisses over her skin. And then, slightly above the line of any kind of shirt collar, he starts to suck. 

Her hands grip at his lower back and her body arches slightly. He wraps his arms around her, dipping her back ever-so-slightly to let him have the perfect angle. Sucking slowly and continuously, he’s soon raised a purpley-red splotch on her neck, one that will be most visible tomorrow. 

Lifting his eyes to hers, Oliver can see the heat and desire and need in her eyes. She wants him, and he wants her, like he’s had since the last time they made love. Which was this morning, but that was hours ago. 

So Oliver doesn’t waste any time and lifts Felicity up, pinning her against the door and kissing her slowly. “What do you want, Felicity?” he asked, kissing her hickey and hearing her hiss in a breath. “What will make you scream the loudest?” 

Felicity’s teeth sink into her plump lower lip, making his blood get hotter. “It … it’s a little kinky, if that’s okay?” she asks slowly. 

He nods but stays quiet, letting her gather herself. Whatever she asks for, he’ll give it to her. 

“Would you … would you … “

“Yes,” he says softly, smiling at her. It gets a small smile and a hesitant laugh from her, which was his hope. Then she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Please go down on me and when you’re doing that, if you could play a little with my, um …?” She gestures to her lower half, and he must look very confused, because she pauses and then realizes how she can explain herself. Because she takes his hand and leads it to her ass, before sliding his fingers between her cheeks.

And then he gets it, and he is–he is so ready. Because yes, it is a little kinky. But it’s not dirty or wrong, because it’s them and they love each other, and it turns him on so much that she’s willing to ask him for that, willing to ask him for anything.

Felicity still treats him like Oliver. 

Gladly, he drops to his knees in front of her and undoes her dark jeans. He slides them over her hips, taking her underwear with them. There’s no need to draw things out that far. 

But he does take a moment to cup her ass and tilt her pelvis so he can just take her in for a moment, and then he looks up at her. “If you want me to stop, say pineapple.” 

She lets out a small giggle, and Oliver smiles at her, and then he leans in to lick her in one long, smooth stoke, from top to bottom. 

Her giggle becomes a moan, and she leans back against the wall, still wearing her long-sleeved blue t-shirt. 

Oliver settles back on his haunches as he keeps licking and sucking her. He keeps glancing up at her face, wanting to make this good for her. Wanting to give her everything, even the things that he never could now, no matter how much he desperately longed to. A ring. A house. A baby. 

And soon, he loses himself in her. In the silky slipperiness of her center, how warm and soft it was. Just like Felicity. 

Using all the tricks he knows, Oliver works to bring her close to the edge. It means sliding three fingers inside her, rubbing his thumb against her clit in Morse Code, and working his tongue to help his hands out. 

And when she’s close, Oliver uses his left hand to gather some of her moisture on his fingertips, and then he wordlessly tells her to spread her legs. 

Felicity’s flushed, her hair’s coming out of her ponytail, but she’s still beautiful to him. The perfect partner.

She steps her feet hip-width apart, letting Oliver slide his fingers gently through the spot where her cheeks meet, sinking lower. 

“Oliver,” she breathes out, knowing what was coming. There’s excitement and a little bit of fear in her voice, but nothing that makes him think she’s going to make him stop.

Which is good, because she is definitely reacting to this. 

He eases up on her a little, contenting himself with licking her and occasionally sucking on her clit, enough to keep her at the right place. Felicity’s squirming against him, and then his hand parts her and presses one finger against her asshole. 

Her reaction is immediately: a tensing of her body, but like she’s very happily anticipating this. 

“Next time, I can do more, with supplies,” he tells her, looking up at her. His right knee, the bad one, will be fucked by the end of the day, from kneeling on these floors, but he doesn’t care.

“Oooh, this is good,” she says as he circles her entrance, rubbing softly. “Ohhhhhhhhhh Oliver.” 

“Louder,” he says, before he picks up his efforts on her center. He’s sucking harder, shoving his tongue deeper inside her and applying just a bit more pressure against the impossibly tight muscles inside her ass. 

And she does. Her moans and cries of “Oliver!” get louder and louder, the closer she gets to her climax. It finally comes when he nips at her clit, just as he oh-so-carefully edges just the tip of his pinky into her ass. 

Then she’s coming, so hard, drenching his face, her hips snapping, and she’s screaming, actually screaming, “ ** _OLIVER!_** ”

He catches her when her legs collapse out from underneath her, and he sits back on the floor and holds her in his lap as she pants and comes down. 

It’s been a long time since he’s done that to a woman–and it had only happened once before. But Felicity’s reaction was so much rawer and more open, and he feels addicted. 

Oliver wants to make her scream his name like that every night. 

After a few minutes, he can feel her stir and Oliver loosens his grip on her and waits, in nervous anticipation, for her reaction. 

Felicity lifts her head, righting her glasses and looking right at him. “Wow. I’d say I should get you jealous more often, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t survive too much of that.”

“So you’re not mad?” he asks, stroking her back.

“Today? No. You felt possessive, and you used that to get those guys to back off,” Felicity said. “But if you ever get crazy stupid jealous, I am so calling you on it. And no amount of puppy dog eyes will get you out of hearing my Loud Voice.”

“I thought I just did, at the end there?” he asks, grinning when she lightly punches him in the shoulder. 

She rolls her eyes and rubs her hand over his head–she loves to do that, and feel the short hair move back and forth under her palm. “I mean it, Oliver.”

“I’ll try,” he says. He can’t promise her not to react out of jealousy, but he can promise to try.

Her smile tells him she understands, and then she’s kissing him slowly and … tugging on his robes?

Oliver pulls back from her lips enough to speak. “Felicity?” 

“My turn to make you scream my name,” she says, looking at him with dark, seductive eyes.

And she did.


	26. Mr. Celibate For Nine Months finally getting Felicity and totally not lasting long enough to get her off first

_Mr. Celibate For Nine Months finally getting Felicity and totally not lasting long enough to get her off first. SO THEN WHAT? Heeee._

She was not going to feel cheated. 

Because tonight wasn’t just a romp in the sheets or a roll in the hay. It was about them making that commitment to each other, taking that step and joining their bodies like their hearts and minds and souls already were.

But deep down, Felicity knew she was lying to herself.

She felt gypped. Because … he was Oliver Queen, Playboy of the Western World, the man who had whole websites written about his sexual ability and prowess and inventiveness, and … he came before she did. Came _well_ before her. Like, after two thrusts. 

And then kinda fell asleep.

Hiding her face with her hands, Felicity breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. Although that just made the scent of sex and sandalwood combine in her nose and make her itch all over with sexual tension. 

Wasn’t it just Felicity Meghan Smoak’s luck that she would have to take care of herself tonight, like hundreds of other nights?

It felt like admitting defeat, but finally she couldn’t take it anymore. She had just started to slide her hand down her stomach, when Oliver jerked awake beside her and she yelped.

“Oh my God, Oliver!” Her hand went to her chest. 

He blinked at her, looking confused yet also blissfully, amazingly relaxed. And then he realized what had happened, and the confusion cleared—but so did the relaxation. She could literally see the tension appear in his face and shoulders, could see the shutters go down in his eyes before he looked away.

“Hey, hey,” she said, forgetting the buzz under her skin for the moment as she moved closer to him. “Oliver, look at me.” 

There was a long moment of hesitation, and then he lifted his head and met her gaze. 

She gave him a small smile. “So, that’s a story to tell … someone. Someday. Not Digg or Roy or Thea, obviously, but—okay, so maybe we won’t end up telling anyone it, but I know that someday we’ll laugh about this and—”

Her words were cut off when he leaned in and kissed her, tenderly and desperately and so full of love that she felt the knot in her stomach untangle. Because … it was kind of a compliment, right? The fact that he loved her so much, that he was so hot for her, that he came that quickly, right?

And then she was looking up at the ceiling. 

“Wha-huh?” she said, shocked that he had flipped them over that quickly. 

“Time for you to catch up,” he said, gazing into her eyes. He brushed a lock of her hair out of her face. “I had a year to imagine all the things I wanted to do to you. With you.”

Well. That … that sounded promising.

No, that sounded fucking _amazing_.

All she could do was nod her head eagerly, and Oliver grinned at her and kissed her again. 

She got lost in his kisses, in the soft caresses over her shoulders and arms, her desire roaring back to life. And like he was some kind of mind-reader, he knew what she needed. 

His hands gripping her breasts, his mouth playing with her nipples, sucking and licking and oh, God, _nipping_ —

“Oliver,” she gasped, and he looked up, her nipple still in his mouth, and— “Oh, fuck, don’t stop, go go go!”

Felicity was pretty sure he was smirking as he kept sucking, but she didn’t care, she didn’t care, she—

_Oh_. 

That had never happened before! And ooh, coming from just her breasts being played with? She took back everything bad she had thought about Oliver’s love-making technique in those minutes he had been sleeping beside her. 

Oliver nuzzled the side of her breast, then began kissing down her stomach. His scruff felt amazing, providing just the right contrast to his soft lips. And ooh, that first time was like a little baby climax, and its big sister was just waiting, very impatiently, tapping its foot and looking at its watch and she was ready, so ready.

So when Oliver spread her legs and breathed on her, her hips jerked up. “Oliver!”

“Shhhh,” he said, stroking his thumbs against her inner thighs, like he had before, and fuck, she really loved his hands, she loved him, she loved Oliver Queen and she had told him and he loved her back and he was about to eat her out and normally she hated that phrase but she felt like he was ready to devour her and she wanted to be devoured.

Oliver licked her slowly, making her honest-to-God squeal, to her embarrassment. She felt her face go red, but Oliver just kept stroking her thighs as he lapped at her, and it shouldn’t be sexy, but it was. 

Between the licking and sucking and blowing and the long, calloused fingers sliding inside her, Felicity felt her mind, her reason, drift away. She became pure sensation, and it felt so good after spending so long thinking, denying with her brain everything that her heart knew and wanted. 

And then Big Sister said, “Finally!” and Felicity was screaming Oliver’s name as she came hard, pressing against his face and God, she hoped she didn’t smother him.

It took her a few moments—okay, more than a few—to come back to herself. When she did, she slowly opened her eyes and saw Oliver, resting his chin on her hipbone, gazing up at her with love and desire and happiness in his eyes.

And this was the moment she had wanted, this was what she thought it would be like. 

So yeah, they had a first time story that they could never tell anyone. And she wasn’t sure Oliver would ever really be able to laugh at it. But … but they had a first time now. 

It was more than she thought they’d have.

Besides, second times were the ones that were the best—everyone knew that. So Felicity leaned down and pulled Oliver up to kiss him and get that second time started.


	27. "But I brought the whipped cream..."

_"But I brought the whipped cream..."_

Felicity blinked. Because … her boyfriend, her incredibly hot, amazing, puppy dog/vigilante boyfriend, had showed up at her door in a suit, a really amazing suit with a blue shirt that made his eyes look like the bluest things ever (screw it, she was incredibly aroused and she couldn’t be expected to come up with good metaphors _now_ ), holding two bottles of spray whipped cream and wearing a confused expression on his face. And something about Oliver, being confused, always worked for Felicity.

“It’s Thanksgiving? I thought you said I should bring dessert?” Oliver said slowly, lifting up the plastic bag in his hand that distinctly looked like it held pie. Or pies. Something else that would be really good to eat off his abs, once she got tired of licking the spray-on cream (the commercials all said it was real cream, not chemical-laden foam like Cool Whip) from each ridge and divot and muscle of his eight-pack. 

“I–John and Lyla are hosting,” Felicity stuttered out. “I thought you knew.” 

Oliver frowned. “Oh. No. I hadn’t realized that. But–but I was still supposed to bring dessert, right?”

_No, you’re supposed to be my dessert. Because I have been such a good girl and a strong woman for so many years, the illegal hacking and fantasizing about my boss/vigilante partner aside._

And she really, really, really needed to get herself together. 

Pasting on a smile, Felicity nodded and stepped back so Oliver could come into her apartment. “Yeah, we were down for dessert. I got carrot cupcakes and some whipped cream”–for other purposes than for today–”so with your pies, we should be all set.” 

He smiled at her and leaned down to kiss her lightly. “Good. You look beautiful.” 

Ohhhh, why did he have to do that? Tell her that she was beautiful? Until they got together, Oliver’s appreciation of her appearance had been warm, steady, but silent. Now, though, he never failed to compliment her. And since he was always so utterly sincere, she knew he always meant it. 

“Thank you,” she said, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her orange and cream print dress. “I thought it was … Thanksgiving-y.” 

And now he was doing that sweet, adorable little huff of laughter thing, where he ducked his head and then looked at her like she was precious to him. 

If he said anything, anything at all, that could be construed as cute or flattering, she wouldn’t be held responsible for her actions. 

“I love the way your mind works. Thanksgiving-y,” he repeated, his voice soft and warm and full of love.

Oh, she was gonna give thanks, all right. 

“Right, c’mon,” she said, grabbing his hand and tugging him back to her bedroom. 

“Felicity?”

“We’ve got just enough time for me to put whipped cream on you and lick it off, and by God, that is how I am going to celebrate the Pilgrims nearly starving to death. And if we’re late, I don’t even care,” Felicity said, stopping to face Oliver. “Do you have a problem with that?”

A myriad of emotions flickered through Oliver’s eyes, and then a small smirk appeared on his face. “No. No problem. Good thing I bought two cans, huh?”

The jerk totally knew what he did to her, but right now, Felicity didn’t care. Because she knew as soon as she started lapping the cream from him, the tables would be turned.

She didn’t bother undressing him fully. When they got into her bedroom, Felicity pushed him down on the bed, shoving aside the bag of pies as she straddled him. Her hands worked quickly, tugging his shirt out of his pants and pushing it up to his chest. Obligingly, Oliver held his shirt up and–oh, god damn it, the bastard _flexed_ his abs, making each muscle pop and Jesus, she would need to change her panties before they left.

Snatching one of the cans of whipped cream, Felicity shook it hard, staring into Oliver’s eyes and licking her lips. As she hoped, she saw his eyes go dark, and then his lids slipped shut as she started to carefully spray lines of cream over his abs. 

And when she was satisfied and leaned in to lap up the tiniest bit of foam, Oliver moaned loudly. “Felicity–”

“Mmmmmmmmm?” she hummed against him, her wordless murmur both question and expression of appreciation. She swirled her tongue against him, loving the slight saltiness of his skin combined with the sugary-sweet cream. From now on, she would only eat whipped cream off of Oliver. 

Dedicating herself to the task at hand, Felicity licked and lapped and sucked lightly, wanting to get every last bit. Oliver’s moans became louder and less understandable as words as she went on, his body flinching and arching against her mouth in equal measure.

And then she rubbed her palm against him through his pants, and he hissed and groaned. 

“I think there’s somewhere else I can put whipped cream,” Felicity said, looking up at him and thinking that there was nothing sexier than Oliver like this. 

He nodded quickly. “Yes. God, yes, please, Felicity–”

It was all she could do not to giggle at her, Felicity Smoak, being the one to drive Oliver Queen wild with lust, being the one to spray whipped cream on his abs and lick it up. 

This was the only kind of thanksgiving she cared about right now. It was a good thing she would be taking a couple of bottles of very good wine for dinner at John and Lyla’s later today.


	28. He didn't know whether to be embarrassed or turned on that she had caught him, literally, with his pants down.

_He didn't know whether to be embarrassed or turned on that she had caught him, literally, with his pants down._

And then her eyebrow went up, and she got that little smirk on her face that never failed to make him hard–or harder–and Oliver still didn’t know how to feel. 

“Why, Mr. Queen,” she said–no, she _purred_ , the genius that she was. “Am I interrupting anything?” 

Her eyes ran over him, lingering on his crotch, and Oliver swallowed. Really, he shouldn’t be embarrassed. So what if he had slipped into his executive bathroom to relieve the pressures of being the second-time CEO of the newly-renamed Queen Consolidated? Pressures that primarily stemmed from his beautiful, talented, crazy smart vice-president of Applied Sciences?

Because working with Felicity again, every day, and then going to the Foundry together, and then going home together … they were together all the time, but it was never enough. He never had enough time with her. Time to kiss her, hold her, drive his aching cock deep inside her … 

His hand was no substitute, but sometimes it was the only option. 

But standing there, still clutching his still-hard dick through his boxers, with his girlfriend looking like she was going to eat him up–literally, he hoped, please God–Oliver could care less about being embarrassed. 

“N-no,” he said, his voice catching ever so slightly. “No, Ms. Smoak, you’re just in time. I wanted to–to take a meeting with you?”

In the year she had been his EA, the boss-secretary fantasy had occasionally made an appearance in his mind. Okay, more than occasionally. But right now, Oliver was more interested in the CEO-VP fantasy.

Especially when she walked towards him, her hips swaying in her red dress, and rested her hands lightly on his hips. “Yes?”

He wasn’t going to last long. But he knew how much banter and teasing turned Felicity on, and he was going to make her at least half as aroused as he was right now.

“Yes, Ms. Smoak,” he said, his voice deeper than normal. “About maximizing the potential of your department. I think very highly of Applied Sciences. We need to use your skills fully.” 

And he leaned in to brush a kiss softly against her jaw, just under her ear.

It might have been the business talk–stuff he had picked up in his first time as CEO–or it might have been the touch of his lips, but Felicity shuddered slightly, melting against him. “Oh. I see,” she said, her voice breathy.

“You are invaluable,” he said into her ear. Not talking about Applied Sciences at all, but about her. Felicity Meghan Smoak: blonde genius with great legs and a tendency to babble, the woman he loved and the woman who loved him. 

“T-thank you,” she said, her hands moving from his hips to his ass, drawing him in against her. “I’m eager to be a part of whatever you have in mind, Mr. Queen.” 

Done. He was _so_ done.

Oliver attacked Felicity’s mouth, kissing her eagerly, passionately, wishing he could just climb inside her and never leave. At the same time, his hands reached down to pull up her dress. Fuck, he _needed_ to be inside her, _now_.

“Oliver,” Felicity hissed, her hands fumbling with his boxer-briefs. “God, you are so hot–”

“All for you,” he told her, meaning it with all his heart. And then he sucked in a breath as Felicity freed his aching cock and pumped him slowly. “Oh, God, don’t do that or I’m gonna come.”

“Then let’s move this along,” she said, her eyes glinting behind her glasses, her smile wide and happy and mischievous. She put one hand behind herself on the counter and Oliver helped lift her up. Then he shoved her underwear aside and dipped his fingers into her. 

Her eyelids fluttered. “Oh, fuck, Oliver–”

Now he knew she was ready. Felicity rarely cursed, and most of those times were when they were like this. And she was so wet and hot, there was no need for him to wait. 

Sliding in slowly, Oliver pushed forward until his cock was buried to the hilt inside her, and like always, he savored this first moment. When he was surrounded by her, when her body slowly eased her muscles to accept him, to hold him inside her, in the place he never wanted to leave.

But he did leave her, if only because it felt so damn good to come back again. 

They both knew they didn’t have much time, so they each used their knowledge of the other’s body to speed things along. Felicity wrapped her legs around his waist and let her moans go as loud as she could given their location. Oliver reached between them and rubbed at her clit as he slammed into her, moving fast and hard.

Soon, both their voices were moaning together. “Oliver, Oliver–ohhhhhh yes!” Felicity cried out as she climaxed, her muscles now like a vise around his cock. And that was all he needed to tumble over the cliff. 

Panting, Oliver rested both his hands on the counter behind Felicity, holding himself up enough even as he rested against her. She murmured softly, her hands running over him–over the jacket he was still wearing, which made this feel deliciously illicit and made him weakly twitch. 

“Oh, no,” she said, pushing him back a little. “No round twos at the office, remember?” 

“I remember,” Oliver said, nuzzling her neck softly. “You’re just so beautiful and amazing, Felicity …” 

He could see her swallow and then she firmly pushed him away from her, sliding off the counter as she straightened her clothes. “Later. We’ll take all the time we want.”

“We’re moving against that drug ring tonight,” he reminded her, tucking himself away carefully before doing up his pants. 

“Afterwards,” she said, leaning up on her toes to kiss him softly. “You and me. You got that, Mr. Queen?”

Oliver smiled slowly. “Yes, Ms. Smoak.” 

And then she smiled back, and Oliver was very glad that Felicity had caught him with his pants down.


	29. It was the most dangerous way they'd ever had sex but Felicity insisted they keep their helmets on.

_It was the most dangerous way they'd ever had sex but Felicity insisted they keep their helmets on._

“Felicity–oh, fuck–we didn’t even need the helmets on the ice.” 

“Says–says you,” she muttered, gripping his shoulders as she rolled her hips, drawing him in deeper. 

Oliver moaned as he kept thrusting, going harder. It was supposed to be fun and innocent: teaching Felicity a little bit about hockey, taking her onto the ice and helping her skate and use a stick.

_Oh, she’s really good with the stick_ , his brain pointed out. It was like the ghost of Ollie had appeared, leer and all.

Not the hockey stick. Felicity was awful. She was scared of falling onto the ice, kept losing her gloves, and was worried that she would hit him–or herself–in the head with her hockey stick. Thus the helmets.

But seeing her flushed cheeks, the braid that stuck out from under her helmet, the heat in her eyes as she watched him skate … it was too much. 

And their fun, innocent date had turned into this: Oliver holding Felicity in his arms, pressing her against the wall of the locker room as he drove into her moist heat. 

This was the only place he ever wanted to be. The only way he wanted to score. 

He slammed his hips against hers, and she moaned and clenched around him as she fell over the edge and took him with her.


	30. it's hard to say please

_When he gets like this -- when he sees, out of the corner of his eye, a bead of sweat drip down between the valley of her breasts and all he can think about is following it -- when he gets like this, when he wants this much, it's hard to say please._

Because that would mean his brain was actually in control and not his body.

They’ve been in bed all weekend. Ra’s has been defeated, his sister and the team are safe, the city isn’t burning around them … so he can finally, finally, put Felicity first. It’s taken him too long to figure out how to do that, how to balance all his responsibilities with his desires, but now that he has? 

This is the first of many weekends like this.

Yet his ravenous need for her still surprises him. It’s constant, unending. He never thought one night with her would be enough—but ever since he came back from Nanda Parbat, they’ve been together. In his bed in the loft, in Felicity’s bed, in the Foundry, even once in the alley outside. 

But it’s not enough. 

“Felicity,” he whispers in her ear, moving towards her and stroking her stomach. He leans down to lick at the inner curves of her breasts, tasting her sweat—and underneath her flavor, warm and sweet and addictive. 

She moans softly, her eyes blinking open. “Oliver …” 

He wants to taste her all over. Until he can taste nothing but her, no matter what he eats or drinks. 

Shifting on top of her, his hands and knees bracing him from crushing her, he begins kissing a trail down her body. She squirms underneath him, soft little sounds coming from her lips and making his whole body tense and harden. The contrast between their physiques continues to enflame him: his hardness and angles, her softness and curves. 

They’re perfect together. 

Oliver rubs his thumbs over her hipbones, his fingers sliding underneath to stroke the swells of her ass. It tilts her pelvis up, just a little, presenting where he’s heading like X marks the spot. Treasure, safe haven, _home_.

When his tongue slides through her folds, Felicity whimpers. “Oh, I love you,” she says breathlessly, her hand reaching out to stroke the top of his head. His hair is still too short for her to grip the strands, like she did their first night together. But soon, he’ll have her hand in his hair again. 

And now, he’s got his face pressed against her center, licking up her juices, sucking her clit, sliding his tongue inside her just to make her moan. His hands have fully cupped her ass, squeezing her cheeks in time with his mouth’s movements.

Felicity is arching her hips, her voice getting louder as she says how good she feels, how she never wants this to stop.

Neither does Oliver. But soon, they reach the point where anything more crosses the line to more pain than pleasure, so he lightly scrapes his teeth over her clit and holds her hips as she climaxes, his tongue catching every drop from her. 

He looks up at her, watching her chest heave as she breathes in deeply, the flush over her skin and her completely disheveled hair. She’s beautiful and strong and his. His Felicity. 

The moment when she opens her eyes and looks at him, a soft, lazy smile on her lips, Oliver can’t help smiling back at her. “Okay?”

She lets out a soft little laugh. “Really? You have to ask?” 

And he smiles wider and savors the knowledge that Felicity understands when he can’t say please. 

(That night, she doesn’t say please when she drops in front of him and takes his half-erect cock to rock-hard, and then sucks him so deeply into her mouth that he sees stars when he comes. And he understands that Felicity understands because she can’t always say please, either.)


	31. "Face the mirror Felicity..."

_"Face the mirror Felicity..."_

Felicity looked at Oliver, her razor held in mid-air. “Oliver?” 

One of her habits was that she didn’t like to shave her legs in the shower. She preferred just sitting on the edge of the tub, letting the faucet run so she could rinse her razor. But Oliver’s bathroom in the loft just had a shower (an enormous one that was really good for shower sex but not good for shaving your legs) and it felt weird to use Thea’s. 

But what Oliver’s bathroom had was a sink with a long granite countertop. Perfect for climbing up on and shaving her legs, sitting longways on the counter with the sink under her raised knees. She was just gathering her supplies, getting ready to start, when Oliver came into the bathroom and went very still.

His eyes were fixed on her legs. She smiled a little, leaning back on her free hand. “See something you like?” 

“Face the mirror, Felicity.” 

Oh. This was not a teasing, bantering kind of foreplay. This was a dominating, ‘I’m gonna make you scream’ kind of foreplay. 

Both were good. Either would have worked for her. But it was an extreme turn-on for Oliver to take charge. It shouldn’t be—she was a strong, feminist woman, an independent woman who was strong and confident and when did she start sounding like a Kelly Clarkson song? 

The point was, Oliver wanted to be in control. And since he was getting really, really good at letting her be in charge—and not just in the bedroom—she wanted him to have the same gift he had given her. 

Felicity let her eyes flick to his mouth and she licked her lips. “Okay,” she said, turning her head to the mirror and meeting his eyes there. 

He gave her the smallest of smirks, just a twitch of his lips, and then winked at her. She smiled, even as he stalked towards her. One hand went to the hip that was closest to the mirror, rubbing his fingers against her t-shirt. 

And the other landed lightly on her toes, tracing a line from her big toe to her pinky, his finger lingering in the creases between each toe.

She took a breath, already feeling her body react. From him touching her toes. 

Oh-so-slowly, he moved his hand up her leg. Rubbing her heel, circling the joint of her ankle, gently squeezing her calf muscles. By the time he reached her knee, which they both knew were extra-sensitive, Felicity had sunk her teeth into her lower lip. 

Oliver kept looking at her eyes in the mirror. Never looking away. Never needing to look down to see where he was. Partly because he had the mirror, but also—because he knew her body. Knew how to turn her into putty in his hands. 

When his hand caressed the crease of her knee. Felicity closed her eyes and moaned softly. 

“Don’t close your eyes,” Oliver said in her ear. He stepped up against her back, his hand moving from her hip to her stomach and holding her in place. 

Not that she wanted to move. 

Felicity managed to open her eyes and saw him, taking in the picture they made. Oliver, dressed in one of his henleys and jeans, his hand so huge on her stomach, his tan skin standing out against her white t-shirt. And his other hand, so vivid and perfect, against the pale skin of her legs. 

“Your legs were the first thing I noticed about you,” Oliver said softly. “That second meeting? When you met Digg? I saw you walk up to the office and …” He did one of those little ‘ducked head and quiet puff of laughter’ reactions that she _loved_ to see. “I wanted to see more. I wished your skirt was even shorter.” 

“They—they were short enough for work—ohh …” she said softly, as his hand lightly pressed against the inside of her knee, drawing her leg back a little and allowing him more access. 

He smiled, a smile of heat and desire. “I started having fantasies about having your legs wrapped around me.” 

“When?” The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. 

Oliver gazed at her for a long moment, his hand going still on the inside of her thigh. “After the Dodger case.” 

“That soon?!?” she asked, staring at him in the mirror. 

Nodding, he began tracing circles and wavy lines on her thigh, creeping his way higher. “That soon. They were just fantasies. Images. But then, as we got to know each other better …” He paused, and brushed his lips against her temple. “They got more detailed. More specific. And I tried to stop, but it wasn’t working. So I pushed you away.” 

Felicity rested both her hands over the hand that Oliver had on her stomach. “I wasn’t ready then,” she said softly, holding his eyes. “I was still scared by what I was feeling.” 

“Me, too,” he said, dropping down to kiss her neck before he straightened back up. “Until it was more scary to live without you.” He smiled a little, his hand inching higher. “And I just couldn’t stop holding back.” 

“Good—good decision,” she said, her words stuttering as his hand finally left her leg and cupped her. “Best decision.” 

He laughed and dipped his fingers into her panties, the combination of his slow movements with her slick surfaces making Felicity gasp. 

“Oliver—”

“Keep looking in the mirror, Felicity,” he said, his chin lightly resting against her head. “Don’t look away from me.” 

His amazing fingers kept touching her, working to finish what he had started when he had touched her toes, and Felicity wanted to look away, because it was _so_ much, to feel this worshiped and cherished and adored, and she didn’t know what she had done to deserve _this_. 

Because it wasn’t just about the sex (although God, his fingers were sinking inside her up to the second knuckle and he was muttering how soft and hot she was) but it was about how he looked at her. 

He might be in control of her body, but she knew she was the one who held his heart in her hands. It was his gift to her, and it was so precious and beautiful that she had to take care of it. Had to protect him. Had to love him.

There was no choice to make. 

Her body was jerking and trembling, and his fingers were stroking inside her as his thumb rubbed her clit, and his face was so content, so happy, that Felicity would never be sure if she climaxed from how he had touched her or from the look in his eyes.

It didn’t matter. She still screamed his name.


	32. "Have you ever really considered the logistics and danger of shower sex?"

_"Have you ever really considered the logistics and danger of shower sex?"_

Oliver stared at Felicity. Sometimes, he wondered about her. About just what she thought about.

Because … he was naked. A state that she really appreciated, but she didn’t want to have sex in his shower. 

“Felicity … what are you worried about?” he asked, trying to sound supportive and understanding. Not like he was whining. Because if there was one fantasy that had stayed in constant rotation in his brain, even before he knew he loved her, it was Felicity in the shower. The water turning her blonde hair darker, droplets running over her breasts and dripping off her nipples, before she turned around and tilted her head back. And then the water would be running down over her magnificent ass.

“It’s all … slippery,” she said, squirming a little on her feet and Jesus fuck, she was going to kill him. He had survived Lian Yu, Amanda Waller and Ra’s Al Ghul, and a five-foot-five blonde with glasses, an amazing mind, and an ass that wouldn’t quit was going to be the cause of his death.

“That’s kind of the point,” he said, taking her hand and giving her his best playboy grin. Then he paused, and gazed at her. He felt his grin shift into a small smile, and he spoke softly. “Can we just try? If you don’t like it, we can stop.”

She bit her lower lip, and it was all he could do not to groan, and thank God she nodded her head. 

“C’mon,” he said, tugging her hand and pulling her into the shower stall, into the steam and the heat, and he felt his cock twitch and harden as he leaned down to kiss her. 

At least she immediately responded, kissing him hungrily, wrapping her arms around his neck and arching against him. Oliver wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in tight against himself and fuck, she felt so fucking good. Curves and soft skin and _warm_. So warm. 

He slid his hands underneath her, his hands kneading her ass. She moaned, pressing back into his hands and then rocking forward to rub against his groin. Kissing her neck, he whispered in her ear. “Felicity. Hold on to me tight.” 

If he could remember the color of her pen at their first meeting, you could bet he was going to use her own words to raise the stakes. Because damn it, he loved her and he wanted her and he wanted her to see how amazing she was, how she was perfect and could do anything, even when she thought she couldn’t. 

Like hold on to him as he swung them across an elevator shaft, twenty floors above the ground. Or have sex in the shower. 

Felicity moaned. “Definitely–definitely not platonic circumstances,” she said before she kissed him hungrily.

Oliver kissed her back, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He squeezed her ass again, and then hoisted her up. She barely weighed anything and this was when he was thankful for all the strength his body had. Because he didn’t need to press her against the tiles. Instead, her shoulders were barely touching the tiles as he kept kissing her.

Her legs went around his waist automatically, her hands clutching at his shoulders for a moment. And then she relaxed, her body melting against his.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against her lips. “I’ll keep you safe.” 

“You always do,” she whispered back, her eyes meeting his. “Oliver …” 

She rolled her hips against him, and God, he wanted her. 

“Felicity,” he muttered as he kissed her, one hand moving from her ass to stroke her back. 

“Oliver–Oliver, now, please–” 

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He slid inside her, the water adding to her own moisture to let him go so deep, maybe deeper than he had ever gone before, and he moaned and dropped his head against her neck, needing a moment.

Her hands ran over his shoulders and she pressed kisses to the side of his head, even as she panted. “Yes–Oliver, oh, yes.”

“Just–just–” he panted. Not wanting to waste this chance. Wanting this to be slow and deep and perfect.

“Now, Oliver, now,” she said, clenching around him, her muscles holding on to his cock and making him gasp. 

His hips jerked and he pulled out, only to sink into her again. She moaned, and he moaned, and the water ran over them and Oliver felt his mind go quiet, letting his body take over. 

Thrusting deep, his balls slapping against her with each stroke. Kissing her, biting down on her lower lip and gnawing on it gently. Spreading his fingers wide, trying to touch as much of her as he could.

“Oh, yes, Oliver, there!” 

Oliver focused and hit the same spot inside her, over and over, and when he felt the first flutter, his cock became unbelievably hard. And he thrust hard, slamming into that good spot, and she was gripping his shoulders with her hands and his waist with her legs and his cock with her inner muscles, and he was coming at the same time as she was, which had never happened, and it was … 

And then he had to concentrate on staying upright. He pressed one hand against the tiles, breathing hard and holding Felicity, who was loose and boneless. 

“I love you,” he said against her neck. 

“I love you, too. Argh, you were right.” 

He smiled a little. “Not worrying about the danger and logistics of shower sex anymore?” he said, repeating her words.

She shook her head and lifted her head. “No.” She stroked his face. “But maybe we should try it again, making sure we’re talking all the proper precautions.” 

And Oliver grinned and felt very glad that this place had a water heater capable of several hours of hot water.


	33. It's science.

_it's hot, power is out from heat wave and felicity thinks sweating will cool them down. It's science._

“That … doesn’t really make sense, Felicity.” 

Oliver looked over at his girlfriend, who was stretched out beside him on the floor of her apartment. An unusual heat wave combined with an unexpected power outage meant the citizens of Starling City were doing everything they could to manage the heat. It was so hot, crime was actually down in the Glades.

A fact that thrilled Oliver, because the thought of getting into his leathers made him shudder. 

Felicity’s skin was flushed, a light sheen of sweat shining on her face and throat. Dressed in a tank and panties, normally he wouldn’t be able to resist touching her. But it was just so hot. Even for Oliver, who had spent years being subject to the elements and learning how to bear them, had to admit the temperatures were too much.

“Sweat is the way our bodies regulate our internal temperatures. So if we make ourselves sweat more, we’d be cooler,” Felicity said, turning on her side to look at him. 

He frowned, trying to find the logic, only for Felicity to lean over and kiss him. 

Her lips were soft and warm, the taste of her lip gloss sweet and sugary, making him think of forbidden things. Of all the times he had gotten distracted by her mouth, all the pens he had watched her chew on and wished he could offer her a much better replacement. 

Turning on his side to mirror her position, Oliver brought a hand up to cup her face, kissing her back slowly. 

Felicity’s hands weren’t so chaste. They roamed over his chest and abs, a little clumsy from slipping on his sweaty skin. But that made her caresses turn him on even more, to his surprise. Soon, she had lowered his boxer briefs and wrapped a hand around his cock, and he was panting against her mouth. 

But when he moved to slide his hand into her panties, she pushed him away.

“Gonna prove to you I’m right,” she said, looking at him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. 

“You’re right. You’re always right.” 

She let out a soft giggle and kissed him. “You didn’t have to say that. I’m not gonna stop. Wanna make you feel good.” 

Oliver groaned as her hand clenched around him, moving just right, driving him higher, his balls tightening and drawing in against his body. “Felicity–” he gasped, only for his brilliant, beautiful, amazing girlfriend to lean down and wrap her lips around him as he climaxed.

His body jerked as Felicity sucked on him, drawing out his fall until he felt limp and weak. Then she gently pulled back and moved close to him. 

“Do you feel cooler, Oliver?” 

Her voice was a low, sultry purr, and Oliver swallowed. 

“No–I’m hot.” And with that, he rolled over and pinned her to the floor as he kissed her hungrily.


	34. "That was very mean. Do it again."

_"That was very mean. Do it again."_

Oliver huffed out a breathless laugh and turned his head to look at Felicity, who was panting beside him. “I can’t. You don’t have another pair of panties.” 

“As soon as I can get up, and my legs start working, I’ll prove you wrong.”

Blinking, Oliver sat up. “What? Why would you have underwear here?” He gestured around the Foundry, which was empty and echoing in the early morning hours.

Not that they wouldn’t have just done that if there was anyone here. With him ripping her panties off with his teeth, after she said she didn’t think he could do it. “Because these aren’t the flimsy lacy kind—these are good, sturdy, American-made underwear—oh. Ohhhhhhhhhh!”

She gave him a wink and sat up, leaning over him to pick up his henley and pull it on. “A girl’s gotta be prepared.” She kissed his cheek. “Be right back.” 

Slowly, Felicity pushed herself to her feet and headed over towards her desk, her hips swaying and making him wish she hadn’t bothered with putting on his shirt. Because Felicity’s ass was a thing of beauty. 

When she leaned down to look at the computers, her fingers tapping on the keyboard, Oliver bit back a moan. If only her desk faced the training mats … because he really liked watching Felicity do that. Rest her hands on her desk, lean forward to check something on the screen, with her backside thrust out, just calling to him. 

And then he smirked a little. He rolled over silently, getting to his feet, as he slowly stalked through the shadows to come into position behind her.

XXX

Felicity frowned a little and then shook her head. “Sorry, sorry!” she called out to Oliver, not looking up from the screen. “I’m stopping now.“ 

Leaning down, she snagged the gym bag she kept here at the lair, which had a couple sets of clothes, complete with appropriate underwear. Because you never knew when suddenly her cute dress and heels would need to be replaced with pants and a jacket, for Arrow-related business. 

And then she felt someone—a someone her body recognized _intimately_ —pressed up against her. 

“Oliver?!?” she said, her eyes flying over towards the training mats. Which were empty. Because Oliver had used his ninja-like skills to move up behind her and press up against her ass. 

His hand ran slowly up and down her side, going underneath his shirt to stroke the side of her breast, before drifting back to rub his thumb against her hipbone. “I missed you.” 

She straightened up a little, only for Oliver to press ever so slightly harder against her. “Oliver?” This time, her voice was breathy, whisper-thin.

“Put your panties on,” he said, stepping back from her a little. “Don’t turn around.”

Well, _someone_ was feeling bossy tonight. And normally she would push back a little, tease him. But … but he had that growly tone. The one that made her legs jelly—or more jelly, as the case may be. The tone that said very good things were in her future. 

So Felicity took the lacy thong out of her duffle and leaned down to pull them up her legs, hearing a soft intake of breath from Oliver. 

When she stood up, she wiggled a little, then looked over her shoulder at him, her eyebrow raised.

And that was all it took. 

Oliver pressed against her back again, one hand coming up to cup her chin as he kissed her deeply. Then he pushed forward on her shoulders, bending her over her desk.

“I love you,” he whispered against her neck, his hands stroking her sides.

“I love you, too—ohh, Oliver,” she moaned, as his delicious weight vanished. His hands settled heavily on her hips, his fingers brushing lightly over her lower belly. 

And then she felt his lips against her ass, pressing a soft kiss there, before his tongue began playing with the waistband of her thong. 

XXX

He wasn’t going to last long. Not as long as he did before. But then, it wasn’t like he had to work that hard with _this_ pair of underwear to rip them off.

Grinning against the top of one of Felicity’s cheeks, he felt her rock back. One of his hands slid across her stomach, fingering the front of her thong, as he lightly nipped at the swell of her ass.

“Oh! Oh, God. Oliver, c’mon,” she said, her voice nearly a whine.

“Okay,” he said softly. 

Then, as he dipped his fingers under the front of her thong, stroking her clit, he used his teeth to rip the thong first at the string that vanished between her cheeks, then on her left hip.

Felicity jerked back with a growl—which was so fucking _hot_ —and Oliver stood up quickly, his hand still working her clit as he slid inside her. 

“Yesssss,” Felicity hissed out. 

“Felicity,” he muttered, her name becoming a chant as he thrusted. 

He climaxed only seconds after her, his free hand resting heavily on her desk and holding him up. 

They breathed deeply, in sync, for a few moments, before Felicity spoke softly. “Oliver?”

“Yeah?” he asked, brushing his lips over her shoulder.

“That was mean. Do it again.”


	35. "Will you just touch me already?"

_"Will you just touch me already?"_

The smug smirk on Felicity’s face should not make him even more turned on. Should not make his cock twitch. But it did. 

“Patience,” she said before pursing her lips and lightly blowing over his abs, sending shivers down his spine. 

This sex game was the worst. This whole “you can touch me but I can’t touch you” thing. Because as amazing as it was to touch Felicity, to run his hands over her curves and stroke her shoulders and wind her curls around his fingers? When she was clothed, it wasn’t quite as good. And meanwhile, the most contact he was getting was her breath.

The rest of the time … she was just _looking_ at him.

Oliver thought he should be used to that. With the amount of time Felicity used to spend watching him work out, he was familiar with the feel of her eyes on him. But he was realizing now just how furtive and rushed those looks were. Mere glances compared to this slow, steady observation.

It had started with his face. Felicity had braced herself, her hands on either side of his head, and gazed down at him. Her eyes had roamed over his forehead and down his nose. She had tilted her head to fully investigate his jawline, and had actually leaned in to examine first one eye, then the other. 

“Your right eye is a little bluer than the left one,” she had said, sounding absolutely intrigued. “I never noticed that before.”

Already affected, Oliver had just made a ‘hmmm’ sound and had silently urged her to speed things up.

But she hadn’t. His neck was subject to the same scrutiny, then his shoulders. She spent what felt like an eternity on his chest; he could see her mentally cataloging all his scars, the ghost of the pain he had experienced when he got each one flickering in her eyes. During those moments, he had held her hand tightly, grounding them both in the here and now.

When she got to his abs, though—that was when Oliver felt himself on the verge of breaking. Of ending this game and just throwing in the towel, so he could finally get some kind of relief. He was willing to lose the battle to win the war. 

“Felicity,” he moaned, grabbing the sheets. 

She looked up at him and smiled softly. And then she brushed a kiss, as light as a feather, over his hipbone. 

And he snapped. 

His hands flew up and yanked her on top of him. He arched up, grinding like a teenager against her clothed crotch, as he pulled her down to kiss her. It was hard and messy and totally without finesse, but Felicity moaned against his lips and that went right to his cock. 

Rolling them over, he kept kissing her as he tried to tug off her yoga pants without losing any contact with her. Felicity’s hands were just as busy, running over his back and sides before shoving at his boxer-briefs.

“Oliver—god, Oliver—” she panted, rocking up against him. 

He got her yoga pants off and was shocked to discover she wasn’t wearing panties. His eyes flew to hers, and she just smiled and shrugged. 

“I love you,” he said, feeling tense and breathless and so incredibly aroused. But saying the words let him regain a small measure of his control, enough for him to slowly slide into her instead of ramming his way home. 

That was even better. To sink into her heat and savor it, like he did every time. Because every time with Felicity was one more than he ever thought he would have. 

Her hands stroked his cheeks and jaw as he slowly thrusted, her eyes never looking away from his. “I love you, Oliver,” she whispered. “Feel so good … trust you so much … only want you …” 

His hips began moving faster and he shakily moved one hand between them, his fingers pressing against her clit, nearly slipping away from the spot she needed him, thanks to how wet and slick she was. 

“Oliver,” she groaned, clenching around him. 

With her low voice in his ears and her body surrounding him, he lost it. He pressed hard against her clit as he climaxed, hoping that was enough for her but just too lost in his own pleasure to be able to do more. 

Oliver slumped down on top of her, breathing hard, trying to recover. Felicity’s hands danced lightly over his back as she pressed soft kisses along his jawline.

“Did you—” he started to ask, only for Felicity to nod. 

“You weren’t the only one who was very, very ready,” she said, pushing him up enough to kiss him slowly. 

Chuckling against her lips, Oliver concentrated on kissing her back. So maybe it wasn’t the worst sex game ever.


	36. Post-Season One Smangst

_Post-Season One Smangst_

With a gasp, Oliver jerked from a sound sleep to a sitting position. For years, he had awoken suddenly, tensing immediately to prepare himself for whatever he would find when he opened his eyes. 

It was no different whether he was in Starling City or back on Lian Yu. But for once, he wasn’t jerking awake because he was worried about waking up. 

No, he woke up because he was worried about what he was dreaming.

Because what kind of man had dreams about his partner? About a woman he respected and admired, a woman he depended on? 

A woman he had abandoned?

Running a hand over his face and wiping away the sweat, Oliver tried to push away the dream. But it lingered–not unlike Felicity did. From the beginning, a few moments in her presence had been enough to keep her in his thoughts for hours, days. The more time they had spent together, the more pronounced the effect was. 

He could admit that after the Undertaking, after … Tommy, in that hazy day or two immediately after, he couldn’t see how he could stay in Starling City. So he had run. He had left his partners a parting gift and then attempted to outrun his demons. 

Only to discover that he hadn’t understand just how many demons he really had. 

Demons he thought he had conquerored. Outgrown. 

Swallowing, Oliver stood up and winced at how hard his cock was. At how tempting the thought of wrapping his hand around himself was. At how much he wanted to keep thinking about what had happened in his dream. 

Because Felicity was pure temptation to him. Especially when he dreamed of her, in a backless red dress, her hair up and revealing all the smooth skin that stretched from her neck and shoulders down to the small of her back. 

Skin that he knew would be smooth and warm, completely unblemished like his. Because that was Felicity: unblemished, unbroken. Bright, shining perfection. 

At some point since he left Starling City, Felicity had gone from more than just the IT girl, from the quirkily beautiful woman he had met at QC. She had broken out of the box he had mostly managed to keep her in, and now … 

It was only a matter of time before Digg and Felicity came after him. He knew his partners. And when they got here, he had to be able to have Felicity in her box. For her own sake. 

And the only way he could think of doing that was to stop dreaming of her. 

Looking down, Oliver slowly undid his cargo pants. He closed his eyes and called up the images from his dream as he wrapped his hand around his cock. And when he came with Felicity’s name on his lips, Oliver found himself hoping against all logic and reason that this would be enough to keep Felicity safe from him.


	37. Crusader/Nun Angsty Smut

Rising from her knees, the novice named Felicity took a breath as she crossed herself. Because this was the last time she would be able to pray in this chapel, she knew. 

When you broke your vows, it tended to be the end of your stay within a nunnery. 

She had been sent here as a young girl, hidden away due to her embarrassing birth. Not that birth was an embarrassment–it was ordained by God, after all. No, what was embarrassing was that she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket, and she had been sent away, with her mother, by her father. And when her mother died soon after they had arrived, Felicity had been embraced by the sisters. Guided in her faith, her intellectual abilities nurtured … it had seemed destined that she would take her place without the community of sisters. 

Until the Crusader named Oliver Queen appeared on their doorstep, seeking sanctuary and peace. 

And from the very first moment that she had met him, Felicity had known that her destiny had meant for her to be here … so that she could meet Oliver. 

He wouldn’t see it like that. He had been scarred, both internally and externally, by his years fighting the infidel. Yet those scars didn’t dim his beauty in her eyes–or in God’s. 

Although right now, she was hoping her eyes would be more appreciated by Oliver. Since she knew he was bathing and she really, really wanted to see more of his body, all the rippling muscle and tan skin and and and–

Taking another deep breath, Felicity pulled off her veil and gently draped it over the last pew in the chapel. She shook out her golden hair and then straightened her dress, hoping that Oliver would be able to look past her clothes and … and see her. See what she was offering him. Not just her body, but her heart and her soul. 

Because she knew there was no one who would take better care of such precious items. 

XXX

The water of the stream was cold, enough to chill a man to the bone. Yet Oliver Queen did not care, as long as the water got him clean. 

Although he doubted there was any water that could cleanse him. Could wash away his sins, the crimes he had committed in God’s name. So many, until he was left wondering if the Church could absolve him of those crimes.

It was the height of blasphemy, but he didn’t think it could. And that had left him struggling, yearning for something. He had hoped he might find it here, within the grounds of this small, quiet monastic community. Home to monks and nuns, working together, serving God. Hoping they would give him guidance. 

Yet all he had found was more inner turmoil. Because this quiet complex was also home to brightness and hope and warmth and kindness and humor, in the form of one small woman. 

Felicity. 

He dunked himself in the cold water, trying to drown out the soft smile he couldn’t seem to help when he thought of her. Trying to drown the desire. 

A desire that was further proof of how far he had fallen from grace. Because Felicity was pure, innocent. Intended for God. And thinking of her as Oliver had–in his arms, in his bed, in a home they could make together–it was the greatest possible slight to God. 

But he just couldn’t seem to stop. Couldn’t seem to stop wanting her. Craving her. Needing her. 

In each of their conversations, he had been impressed by her. Charmed by her. If she hadn’t already made her promises to God–

No. He couldn’t think like that. Felicity had her path, and he had his. He had healed enough that he could return to his family’s estate, could take his place as leader, could even take a woman to wife that he would never love but would create children with. 

Oliver Queen knew his duty. 

Standing up in the stream, he wiped the water that streamed off his face and ran his hands over his closely-cropped hair. But then, he felt eyes on his neck. Heard a person breathing. 

So he whirled around, his hands at the ready, only for his eyes to go wide at the sight of Felicity.

A bare-headed Felicity, who had hair the color of sunshine. Hair that he wanted to bury his fingers in, as he pulled her face towards his when he kissed her. 

XXX

_Oh, God help me._

The whispered thought kept going through Felicity’s mind. Because … he was just so beautiful. The scars and still-healing wounds his body bore only highlighted the perfection of his form, the glory of God’s hand upon him.

And now she wanted her hands on him. 

If it was possible, her cheeks went even more red. And then Oliver had turned around to face her, and _oh my God_ –

“Sister Felicity?” 

His voice was shocked, but also … happy? 

“Oh–I’m only a novice, I have told you, Sir Oliver. Just Felicity is fine.” 

A soft, small smile flickered across his face. “And I have told you, just Oliver is fine for me. I’m no lord here.” 

Swallowing, she nodded. “Very well. Oliver. I–I hope your bath was satisfactory?”

His smile twisted, into something a bit darker. Warmer. It made her bones feel like they were melting. “I believe you would be a better judge than I of whether my bath was satisfactory.” 

Simultaneously, her eyes blinked and grew wide. And then they darted down his torso, taking in each glistening drop of water clinging to his muscles. 

“I–you–it seems like it was good for you. Satisfactory! Your bath seemed very satisfactory!” 

Oh, this was not how she imagined this going. She thought she would see him and she would know what to do. Would know how to tempt him, since the Bible said women were equipped to do that, even though Felicity had secretly always thought _that_ idea–that women were naturally prone to sin and were a danger to all righteous men–was less believable than Methuselah living to be a thousand years old and God creating the entire cosmos in seven days.

But she could do this. She knew what she wanted, knew who she wanted. And it was time to take what she wanted. 

So her hands moved quickly to the fastenings of her dress and she started undoing the buttons. 

“Felicity?!?” Oliver’s voice now was just shocked. He was staring at her as she undid her dress, as she let it fall to the ground, leaving her bare to him in the sunshine of an early summer afternoon.

“Oliver,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. She coughed and started again. “Oliver, I have always had a mind of my own. And my mind has often been at war with my soul and my heart and my body. But now–now all parts of me are joined together. They all want you.”

XXX

_Oh, God help me._

Not that the Deity was really helping him, by presenting him a naked Felicity. Revealing every inch of her to his worshipping eyes, making him feel like perhaps it was possible for him to be saved. Because if Felicity found him worthy … there was still hope. 

Although maybe that was just proof that he was damned. Because he shouldn’t be standing here, desiring Felicity, ready to give her what she was asking him for. To take her virginity, outside the bonds of holy wedlock. 

But he would marry her. He would marry her, and take her home with him, and make children with her, and be happy. In this life, and in whatever lay ahead of him in the next one 

Slowly, his eyes locked on hers, Oliver walked towards the bank of the stream. He climbed up, feeling the water rush down his body, feeling the warm air wrap around all parts of his body. He could see her eyes dart down to below his waist, and then her blue orbs leaped back to meet his. She bit her lower lip, but lifted her chin, and Oliver felt a surge of emotion. 

Because he loved this woman. She was the only salvation he needed. 

“Are you sure, Felicity?” he asked as he stepped towards her. Admiring how she stood her ground, how she wasn’t hesitating. How she met his gaze and kept her head high. 

Qualities that a lady of the manor would need. 

“Yes,” she said softly. And then her hand reached out, and rested oh-so-lightly over his heart. “Yes, I’m sure.” 

And with her permission, his animal desires broke free. 

Cupping her face in his hands, Oliver lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. The first taste of her sweetness made his knees go weak, made him want to drop down and start thanking God for the unexpected gift of Felicity. 

That could wait, though. Praying, he thought, as he kept kissing Felicity. 

XXX

Oh, kissing was amazing.

Oliver’s lips had drawn her attention before. She would look at them and feel warm all over, but particularly in a secret part of her between her legs. 

And now, that they were touching their lips together, that spot between her legs was getting warmer and warmer, and she felt urges and instincts come over her, like the Bible had always said. 

But instead of feeling wrong, like the priests had always said, they felt … right. So right. 

Because she was doing all this with Oliver. 

His muscled arms were wrapped around her, drawing her up against his chest. She had wrapped her own arms around his neck, her hands running through his hair, causing him to make soft noises against her mouth. 

Also, her breasts were pressed up against him, and they felt heavy and so good. 

“Oliver,” she whispered, feeling dizzy. 

His lips moved along her jaw, sending sparks throughout her body. “Felicity,” he whispered in her ear, “I’m going to make you mine.” 

She clutched at him even tighter. After years of feeling unwanted, the idea of being desired and wanted–of being his–was all she wanted. “Yes,” she moaned, instinctively rubbing against him. 

To her amazement and pleasure, Oliver let out a desperate-sounding groan and went back to kissing her. And then he began lowering them to the meadow grass, and she knew this was happening. He was going to take that part of him, the hard strong member that jutted out from his body, and put it inside her, between her legs, in that secret warm place. 

And she wanted that. She wanted that so badly. 

“Oliver,” she breathed out, her hands roaming over his back, fluttering against his scars, stroking along her spine.

His bright blue eyes met hers, aflame with so many emotions that she had never seen directed towards her before. Yet her unfamiliarity with them didn’t mean she couldn’t identify them.

Passion. Desire. Respect. Love.

Oliver brought his hand up, brushing his fingers against her cheek. “You–you want me?” 

Normally, she thought over each and every decision. Prayed, reflected, sought guidance. 

Yet this choice–the most important of her life–was made in a split-second.

“Yes.”

And with that, something changed in Oliver’s eyes, and then she felt something nudging at her, and–oh!

XXX

Warmth. So much warmth. 

As he slid inside her, going slowly and watching her face, making sure he wasn’t hurting her, Oliver was boggling at the warmth. Not just the physical sensation of her body wrapping around his. But the sense of light that infused her, that lit him up. 

Could it be her soul was wrapping around his just like her body was? Could she be healing him as she brought him such unimaginable pleasure?

It inspired him. To want to be worthy of her. To give her all that she gave him. And, in this very moment, to make her see that he would be everything she could ever need. 

Moving slowly, Oliver thrust in and out of her, pressing kisses to her face, holding her close to him, murmuring softly to her. 

“Felicity … you are beautiful … you are making me whole … I want to worship you … you are remarkable … your mind is perfect … your soul is like sunshine … Felicity … Felicity … Felicity …”

He could feel her body responding to his, could feel the flutters. And when she gasped, her eyes going wide as she experienced the most perfect pleasure a human could have … Oliver felt like he was seeing God. And being forgiven for all his sins. 

And when he joined her in pleasure, he resolved that it would always be so for them.

End.


	38. Felicity's afraid of flying and they're on one long flight to their next vacation stop... Oliver finds a particular way to keep her from thinking about the height.

_Felicity's afraid of flying and they're on one long flight to their next vacation stop... Oliver finds a particular way to keep her from thinking about the height._

As a practical person, Felicity was well aware that being scared of flying was … well, impractical. Not just from a convenience factor, but because she knew all the statistics–she knew that air travel was safer than traveling by car or train or boat. Not that she would ever, ever, _ever_ suggest she and Oliver travel by boat.

Turning her head, she looked at Oliver. They were in the back row of a tiny little plane, one that was taking them and a handful of other passengers to one of the small islands near Bali. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one that Oliver promised would pay off. 

“It’s like paradise. And I want to share that with you.”

Oliver wanting to go there had been enough for her. He didn’t need to look at her, all heart eyes and soft smile, and speak in that utterly sincere, honest, warm voice … 

So she had quickly agreed, and now here they were, on this flying tin can, getting jounced around the sky, and … she was scared. And trying not to show it, but she knew it was just a matter of time before Oliver picked up on her fear. 

His warm, muscled arm slid around her shoulders. “Hey, are you okay?”

And there it was, like clockwork, she thought with a small smile. One that quickly vanished when the plane shook again and she grabbed the armrests. “I’m trying to be okay, I’m just hoping the power of my mind is enough to keep this plane in the air!”

Okay, so she maybe wasn’t as practical as she thought she was. 

“Hey,” Oliver said, rubbing her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. We’ve only got another half hour or so.” 

Nibbling on her lip, she looked at him. Hesitant to tell him everything that was going through her head, not wanting him to worry about her. Because shouldn’t he have some anxiety going on right now? They were going to an _island_!

Oliver leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. “How about I take your mind off it?”

She knew what that voice meant. Quirking a skeptical eyebrow at him, Felicity replied, “As good as I know you are, Oliver, you’re working with two strikes against you. Not just me being scared, but we are surrounded by people.” 

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at her. And then, one corner of his mouth turned up. Not in a smirk. No, it was an amused, indulgent smile. 

Even though she wanted to argue with him, he was pulling back and pulling that goofy hippie hooded sweater he had picked up in Argentina over his head, and then he was draping it over her lap, and–

And that was his hand on the inside of her thigh. 

Despite her words, Felicity felt the flutterings of desire. Enough that she let her legs fall open a little, giving him more room. As his fingers inched up her thigh, she sank her teeth into her lower lip to hold back her moan. 

His thumb eased her lip free, then he kissed her slowly as his fingers brushed against her center. 

Flailing, her hand let go of the armrest and latched onto his forearm. “Oliver,” she whimpered against his mouth. 

“Shhhh,” he whispered, his lips moving along her jaw before hovering by her ear. “Close your eyes, Felicity. Just feel me. Don’t think about anything else.”

Like that was going to be a problem. Not with his hand between her leg, stroking and pressing and tapping and swirling. Effortlessly building her pleasure, using all his knowledge of her body to bring her to that peak. 

And through it all, he kept talking. Whispering how beautiful she was, how much he loved her, how he had never been so happy. 

So Felicity took no notice of the turbulence that rocked the plane as they approached their destination. She was too focused on reaching her own personal arrival point. 

She climaxed with a almost-quiet groan, one that Oliver muffled with his mouth, leaving her a weak, trembling mess. A mess with only one thought.

When they reached their hotel room, she was going to make _him_ fly.


	39. Oliver discovers Felicity's porn stash.

_Oliver discovers Felicity's porn stash._

Oliver found them when he’s helping Felicity unpack. They had spent the weekend packing up her apartment, putting most of her furniture into storage, folding clothes, putting mementos into boxes. For Oliver, it was exotic in its normality. A return to how it had been during the summer.

So he was opening boxes and determining whether they should put the box in the kitchen, the bathroom, or the bedroom (Felicity, surprisingly enough, wasn’t great with labeling her boxes) when he found her porn. 

And standing in the kitchen of the loft that his sister also lived in, Oliver felt his jeans grow uncomfortably tight at the realization that Felicity liked to watch porn. 

Porn that featured square-jawed men in suits and cute-yet-sultry women. Porn with titles like _Dictation 69_ and _Overtime Under You_.

Felicity–his girlfriend, the love of his life, the very confident feminist–liked boss/secretary role play porn.

It wasn’t the porn that surprised him–well, okay, the porn surprised him a little, if only because he thought she would be watching stuff online and not have actual DVDs. But with how much Felicity had complained about him making her his EA, how much she _hated_ that job … she was secretly turned on by it?

(And the fact that she seemed to be turned on by it, and he had always harbored several fantasies from that year which he had never gotten to act on … his jeans were getting even tighter.)

“Oliver? Another kitchen box ended up in the bedroom, I really should have labeled the boxes better–what do you have there?”

It was only because of many years of relentless danger that he didn’t startle and throw the DVD case up in the air. It was close, though. Instead, he just turned around, still holding the DVD.

“Oh, that should go in the living room–” Felicity stopped when she saw the case. “Or … not,” she added, her face flushing. “I really should have labeled the boxes.”

“You like boss/secretary role play?” Oliver asked. In a voice that was much deeper than he intended it to be. Mostly.

Her hand fluttered around her face, pushing up her glasses and fidgeting a little with her hair. “Yes? I mean, what I actually wanted was … really specific, so I settled for the closest thing I could get. And you were wearing really nice suits all the time that made your ass look nearly as good as they do in the leather pants, and I’m a healthy, strong woman and it’s _fine_ if I choose to watch porn. It’s totally healthy!”

Oliver edged closer to her, taking the hand that was still moving around her face and using it to pull her against him. “I agree. It’s very healthy,” he said, watching how her cheeks went even more pink and her lips parted. “But what did you really want, Felicity?” 

Given what they have done to each other, Oliver found it endearing and also seductive as hell, the way Felicity hesitated. Because she was nibbling on her lower lip, and looking up at him through her lashes, and … yeah, that look worked for him.

“IT Girl/Vigilante,” she said in a rush. 

And even though it should totally break the mood, Oliver couldn’t help grinning widely at her. Not to mention leaning in to kiss her soundly, deeply, intimately. 

Because all the fantasies in the world couldn’t replace how good it was to be with Felicity. With his Felicity.

“So if I brought the suit home with me tonight …” he asked, letting his voice trail off. 

Her lips pursed a little. “Well, I always imagined this … situation happening in the Arrow Cave–”

“We don’t call it that,” he interrupted.

“It doesn’t exist anymore, I can call it whatever I want,” Felicity retorted. Oliver frowned, trying to work out the logic behind that, as Felicity kept talking, her voice dropping a little into that sexy voice he loved. “But if a strong, powerful, mysterious vigilante showed up in my apartment, telling me he needed my help–that he had a computer problem and knew I was the woman who could _reboot_ his system …” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

God damn it. He cleared his throat. “Maybe we should try both. Just to make sure.” 

Felicity let her eyes flutter, and then she stepped back from him. “Thea’s not coming home for a while, right?”

He nodded quickly, randomly thinking how amazing it was to have the two women he loved most living here with him, and how even more amazing it was that one of those women was not home right now.

With one arm, Felicity moved the box down on the counter, clearing a space. She hoisted herself up on the countertop, crossing her legs and edging the skirt of her pretty little sundress higher, to reveal more of her thighs.

Only Felicity would move in a sundress. But that thought, as well as any of his other higher brain functions, were totally wiped away by Felicity’s words. 

“Then, Mr. Queen … you wanted me to take a memo?”


	40. Olicity and lazy, comfortable, funny sex

_Olicity and lazy, comfortable, funny sex_

It’s Sunday. It’s the day made for laziness. At least, that’s always been Felicity’s opinion. When she was in college, even with all the studying and working she did, always moving faster than everyone else–most Sundays, she let herself have the morning to be slow. To sleep in, to go out for a quiet breakfast, to go through a fat Sunday newspaper and read the whole thing while drinking fancy coffees. 

She’s tried to keep that habit, even last year when she had two incredibly high-pressure jobs. And she managed it. 

And now? Well, there’s no way she can’t have lazy Sundays, after five months of every day being like Sunday. Now that they’re back in Starling- _Star_ –City, she and Oliver have fallen into the habit of keeping Sundays for them. 

Sundays are her favorite days. Especially Sundays that start like this. 

Oliver is smiling at her, in-between pressing soft, warm kisses to her lips and all over her face. His hips move in the most delightful rhythm, sliding in and out of her slowly and swirling to just fill her up perfectly. Her hands are running over his shoulders and arms and back and ass, touching him in all the spots he loves. She hums just as he hits a good place inside her. 

“Mmmmmmm, yeah.” 

“That’s all I get?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow, his voice amused and clearly not really bothered.

“I like this,” Felicity tells him, smiling back at him. She lifts one hand to run through his hair, noticing how his eyes grow darker. “I like slow and soft like this.” 

His smile widens. “Me, too.” He kisses along her jaw. “Making love with you in the sunshine … makes me feel like the day is starting right.” 

She pulls him closer. “This is the only way to start the day,” she tells him, nuzzling him. 

Oliver’s eyes flutter shut and he sighs. Not one of resignation or defeat–no, it’s a sigh of contentment, of happiness. She loves that those are the sighs she draws from him, that she’s a source of love and pleasure and support for him. 

That was all she’s ever wanted. 

He picks up the pace, building her up, sparking a slow, warm climax from her. And her muscles clenching around him, drawing him further into her, makes him come with a string of loving phrases, spoken softly into her ear and making her feel so incredibly cherished.

For a moment, her mind conjured up a thousand more Sundays like this. Creating a million memories and maybe … maybe someday they would create more than memories in this bed. 

Felicity pressed her face against Oliver’s neck. She knew it was too soon to be thinking like that, but she couldn’t help it. Oliver was the one for her. The only man she could imagine marrying, the only one she wanted to have children with. 

But for now … quiet, sunny Sundays, just the two of them, were all she wanted. 

“I love you,” Oliver said softly, kissing her cheek.

Scratch that. All she wanted was Oliver saying he loved her.


	41. Just can't wait to get inside the loft, back of the car smut.

_Just can't wait to get inside the loft, back of the car smut._

“Oliver–oh, God, _Oliver_ –you … we can’t do this,” Felicity moaned, right in his ear.

His ability to think was seriously impaired at the moment, but Felicity had never turned down the possibility of sex. So he definitely needed to figure out what was going on–but without distracting her from what they were about to do. “Why not?” he muttered before sucking on the skin just under her jaw.

“Because–because you’re running for mayor,” she breathed out, her hands clutching his suit jacket. “You can’t be seen having sex in a car.”

“Felicity, I don’t fucking care,” he gritted out. Which was the truth. But also? He knew Felicity really liked it when he cursed when they were in bed. 

Not that the backseat of this town car was any match to their bed. But it was bigger than the Porsche.

His hands slid up under the skirt of her dress, the skin of Felicity’s thighs so smooth and warm and soft. Gripping her hips tightly, he held her in place, rubbing against her center. 

“Oliver,” she moaned again, her fingers twisting in his hair. Just the edge of painful, just the way he liked it. 

“God, don’t stop,” he gasped, rocking his hips hard against her. He needed to be inside her, now–there was a damp patch on the front of his trousers, and he didn’t know whether it was from her warm, dripping pussy or from his cock’s leaking precum. 

“Get–oh, _fuck_ , get our damn clothes off!” she hissed, arching up against him. 

As much as Felicity liked him cursing, Oliver liked Felicity cursing even more. And it meant she was really close already. 

He couldn’t even be bothered to yank her panties off. He just pushed them to the side, swirling his fingers through her folds as he fumbled with his pants.

Felicity let out an incomprehensible string of syllables, between soft whimpers. God, she was so hot against his fingers–and slick. He could barely get purchase on her clit, could barely create any friction for her. 

But it seemed to be working for her. And him, too. 

Oliver made himself focus on getting his cock out, desperate to come inside Felicity and not in his pants. When the cool air met his flesh, he shuddered, on the verge of losing it. 

“C’mon, honey,” Felicity whispered in his ear. “Need you.” 

That was all he needed. Oliver lined himself up with her entrance and plunged inside, both of them moaning at the feeling of completion.

She put her hands on either side of his face, holding his gaze with hers, as he thrust mindlessly. “Yes … oh, Oliver … don’t stop …”

“Felicity,” he gasped, unable to say or think anything else. 

With their eyes locked, he could see when her climax hit her. Her brilliant blue eyes darkened and grew fuzzy as her mind shut down, her body awash with pleasure. Her muscles clenched around him, gripping him so tightly as warm wetness gushed out of her. 

“Oliver!” she shrieked, jerking against him, and the sound of his name spoken like that–as if it was the only word she knew–made him come even more than her body did. 

Although her body was doing a lot, he thought to himself with a sleepy grin as he slumped down on top of her. 

“Mmmmm … Oliver, we can’t sleep in the car.” 

“’Cause I’m runnin’ for mayor?” he asked her, pressing a few sloppy kisses to her cheek. 

“No, because I want round two in our bed. Well, at least inside the loft. Although that elevator is pretty nice …”

Oliver lifted his head and couldn’t help beaming at her. “Elevator, against the pillar in the loft, bed. Three more times tonight? I can do that.” 

And as amazing as sex in the car was, even better was kissing Felicity as she giggled.


	42. Birthday sex!

_Birthday sex!_

All day, Felicity had been on edge. And not even for a fun, sex game reason. No, she was jittery because … it was her birthday. She had told Oliver during the summer, but had also told him why she didn’t like celebrating it. And Oliver, who knew something about traumatic events happening around your birthday, understood. And he had promised to never throw her a party or make a big deal out of her birthday. 

But … he had acted funny this morning. Like he had some kind of plan up his sleeve. One that made her think about souffles. 

And yeah, that had worked out really well, Felicity admitted, looking down at her engagement ring and smiling. The same goofy smile she always had when she looked at her ring, according to Curtis.

It was six o’clock, though, and she was walking into the loft, looking forward to whatever Oliver had made for dinner … but there weren’t any delicious cooking smells filling the loft. 

It was filled with flickering candlelight and giant vases of flowers and the scent of vanilla and roses. She stopped in her tracks, looking around, and then said, her voice coming out weakly, “Oliver?”

“Just–just a minute!”

“Oliver, what is all this?” she asked, turning around to take it all in. Just in time to see Oliver, fumbling with … what was he doing?

After a moment, Oliver groaned and turned to face her. Displaying all of his naked body, save for a wide red ribbon that he was holding against his groin. “I was trying to wrap your present.” 

“Wrap … my present,” she repeated, feeling a tsunami of giddiness rising up inside her. 

He nodded, his lips pursed in a sulky, not-at-all-ridiculously-hot pout. “Because I didn’t want to make a big deal of your birthday, like you asked, but … but today is now one of the most important days of the year for me.” 

Felicity felt the giddiness fade slightly, replaced with an unbearable tenderness. “You–you big sap,” she said softly, gazing at him and knowing that her heart was in her eyes. 

With a small shrug, he smiled at her. “Happy birthday.” 

“It’s getting there,” she agreed, walking towards him slowly. Coming to within a step of him, letting her fingers lightly run down his torso. Seeing how his skin jumped oh-so-slightly, seeing how the ribbon moved oh-so-slightly as another part of his body reacted to her.

His smile shifted into a smirk. “Sorry I couldn’t wrap your present.” 

“No, that’s okay,” she said, looking up at him. “I’ve always been too impatient to be careful when I opened my presents. And besides … this just saves me some time.” 

Now he was smirking with one eyebrow raised. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, looking up at him and then taking a few steps back, until she was up against one of the pillars. He followed her, keeping the same amount of distance between them. “The time I would have spent undressing you, you can use to do that thing I like.” 

How much did she love Oliver? A lot. Most of all at this moment? How he always did whatever would make her happy.

Because he dropped to his knees in front of her and began edging her skirt up, his breath hot on her. And then his mouth was peppering kisses over her thighs, his mouth warm and wet against her skin and making her squirm in the way she loved. 

“Don’t move,” he said, stopping just long enough to look up at her before resuming the trail of kisses over her inner thighs.

“Oliver,” she moaned, her hands fluttering from stroking her breasts to clutching his hair. 

“Unzip your dress,” he told her, his fingers tracing the sides of her panties. 

Even though it was her birthday and he should be doing all the work–preferably with his teeth–Felicity reached behind herself and got the zipper open. Once her dress was loose, Oliver tugged it down and over her hips, then tossed it aside as she stepped out of it. 

And then, Oliver as licking her through her panties. 

“Wha—yessssssss …” she gasped, both hands gripping his head and holding him in place. 

Using that amazingly talented mouth of his, Oliver built her up, licking and sucking and nipping. She was rocking against his mouth, grinding against his face, and Oliver started to moan, and the vibrations went right to her clit, and she might never have come this fast–

And then it was all fireworks and birthday cake and sparklers, and Felicity was trembling as she came so hard that her legs gave out underneath her, and Oliver was catching her, just like he always did. 

“Happy birthday to _me_ ,” she mumbled as she collapsed into his arms. 

He chuckled softly, holding her tenderly. “Yeah. Happy birthday, Felicity,” he whispered just as she drifted off.


	43. Fucking to stay warm?

_Fucking to stay warm?_

“O-O-Oliver,” she said, her teeth chattering, “I–I don’t t-think the fire is d-d-doing enough.”

Gritting his teeth, to keep them from chattering as well as from dismay at what was happening, Oliver nodded. “You’re right,” he said. 

“I don’t have t-the body mass you d-d-do,” she said, gripping the sleeping bag around herself. 

“I know!” he snapped, before sighing. “I’m s-sorry.” 

They were in a national forest forty miles east of Starling City. The two of them had come here, following a trail left by Malcolm Merlyn that Felicity had uncovered. A top-secret research facility formerly run by Unidac Industries, one that could have information about the connection between Unidac and Merlyn. 

But they had unknowingly tripped some kind of alarm and had needed to escape, leaving behind most of their provisions. It was only chance that Oliver had grabbed the sleeping bag that was wrapped around Felicity now–but it wasn’t enough in early March. Not with the whole region in the midst of a very cold spring. 

It was too dark to find alternate shelter. And Felicity was in bad shape. Her body temperature was dropping too fast–she needed some kind of warmth. 

“I-I know,” she told him, trying to smile at him. But it looked more like a grimace. “It’s-s-s okay.”

“T-there is one option,” he said slowly. “Body heat.” 

Her eyebrows raised above her glasses, nearing the gash on her hairline. “Body heat?”

Oliver nodded. Reaching out, he unzipped the sleeping bag, watching as she realized what he was doing and seeing the barest flush stain her cheeks. Which told him how cold she was–because a Felicity who was realizing she was going to share a sleeping bag with him would be as red as a rose and babbling faster than light.

The bag was a tight fit, but Oliver got in and zipped it up, then began rubbing his hand against her arms. Trying to be very clinical about this and not notice how her skin was softer than her sweater, when his rough fingers brushed against her arm through the holes in her clothing. 

“Better?” he asked, his voice sounding low and gruff to his own ears.

Felicity’s lips, pale and stripped of her normal bright lipstick, were pressed together. She nodded, staying still otherwise. 

He kept it up, telling himself it was to get her warm. Not because she was Felicity, smart savvy determined innocent Felicity, who filled a place in his life that no one could, who filled a hole he didn’t even know existed until they had met. 

Angling his hips back from her under the guise of moving his hands to her back, he said, “Talk to me, Felicity.” Just like he did on any normal night, when he was out in the field and she was in the Foundry and they weren’t sharing a sleeping bag in the middle of a forest that made him think of memories he wished he didn’t have. 

“Um … I–I don’t know why people d-do this for f-f-fun,” she stuttered. “Camping, I mean. And t-this is even before worrying about the lack of b-bathroom facilities.”

“I know,” he said, feeling his lips twitch into a smile. Because that was what Felicity did–she made him smile, no matter how dark the night was.

And right now … all he wanted was some light. 

There were a million voices–many of them sounding like Digg, some like his mother, and even a few like Detective Lance–telling him why he shouldn’t be considering this. But … Felicity was still shivering, her teeth were still clacking together. This wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. 

She needed more. 

“Felicity,” he said, then he cleared his throat. “There–there’s another way to warm ourselves up.” 

A wrinkle appeared on her forehead, an adorable look of confusion that made him smile a little more, even as he leaned in towards her. And when his mouth covered hers, she let out a small ‘eep!’ and yanked her head back. “Oliver?” she asked, sounding shocked. 

“I won’t lose you,” he said, the words springing from his lips without any conscious thought. But they were the complete and utter truth. It wasn’t about his promise to Digg to protect Felicity. This was about what he needed: Felicity in his life. 

It was a million different kinds of selfish, since he knew she had some kind of crush on him and his own feelings were a mess that didn’t bear close scrutiny. But all his instincts, so focused on survival above all else, would not let himself fail from doing anything and everything to keep her safe. 

He leaned in to kiss her again, and this time, Felicity let him. She let him kiss her, she let him wrap his arms around her. She let him roll her onto her back, his body covering hers from shoulders to toes, let him feel how small and slight she was under him. 

The lack of response nearly made him stop. Instead, he redoubled his efforts. And then, something shifted in their kiss. She began to kiss him back. Her fingers, tipped with ice, started stroking his chest. 

And Oliver felt a fire ignite in himself. 

Sweat rolled down his back as their groins rubbed against each other. Their pants and moans were louder than the crackle of the fire and the sound of the woods. And then, he was sliding his hand between her legs, to the part of herself that burned so hot. 

“Oliver,” she gasped, looking up at him with wide, amazed eyes. 

She was so sensitive. So warm. So … perfect. Unlike anyone else. 

Bending his head down, he kissed her as sweetly as he could, muffling her gasp as he entered her. Savoring this taste of paradise–this glimpse of what he would never, ever deserve. 

And it was worth the additional stain on his soul, to save Felicity. 

When she climaxed, it was strong and sudden and amazing. Like watching a star fall, he thought. And then he was coming, feeling a kind of peace fall over himself–a peace that was all the sweeter for knowing it would never happen again. 

Because Felicity was smart. She knew the kind of man he was. She knew, like he did, that this would never happen again.


	44. Those black leather chairs in the lair

_Those black leather chairs in the lair_

Felicity looked up as Oliver came back into Lair Mark 2.5–or was it 3.5? She had lost track. It had been a slow night and Thea was handling the comms tonight, so Felicity had been taking advantage of the break to go over Palmer Tech paperwork, which was so boring and confusing, it turned her brain to jelly.

Which was a good match for her knees, now that Oliver was back. Because even though she should be used to him in his new suit … she wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

“Hey,” he said, walking over and leaning down to brush a kiss over her lips. “Everyone else leave?”

“Yeah,” she said, letting her hand trail from his shoulder down his arm. “Sara’s got a little cold so John went straight home, and Thea was meeting Alex.”

Oliver got that look on his face, that ‘my baby sister is dating a boy and I used to be a boy and oh, God’ look, so Felicity curled her hand in the strap of his quiver and pulled him in for another kiss.

It took some work to make him relax and melt against her, but Felicity Smoak was nothing if not determined. And also a big fan of kissing her super-hot, superhero fiance. 

After a few moments, she felt him smile against her lips. “Mmmm,” he murmured, the sound a rumble in his very impressive chest. 

“Better?” she asked, her hands lightly stroking his chest. 

He nodded and straightened up. “I’ll go shower and we can get out of here.”

Felicity felt her lower lip jut out. “Okay.” 

For some reason, tonight she felt … flirty. Like a seductress. Maybe it was the dress she was wearing, with its flippy skirt. Maybe it was because since she was pronounced cleared by the doctors, Oliver had been extra-gentle with her. Maybe it was because her fiance was a beautiful, amazing, sexy-as-hell man and she wanted him to make love to her in one of these really soft black leather chairs, all while wearing the costume he wore to save their city. 

When she had first started working with Oliver, the fantasies she had been having changed from her cubicle at QC to the Arrow Cave, always featuring him in his leathers. Where they were in the cave, how the sex happened–those things changed, but what never changed was Oliver’s attire when they started.

“What?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. 

Resting her hands on his sides, she rubbed her thumbs against the leather. “We’re all alone down here … and I really like you in your suit …”

For all the Oliver downplayed any suggestion that he was smart, his intelligence was natural and innate. Especially when it came to sex.

But he was also super-concerned about her. 

“Are you sure, Felicity?”

If she had been standing up, she would have stomped her foot. “Oliver, would you just screw me in your suit while I’m sitting in this chair?”

He stared at her for a moment, then grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

She was ready to tell him to not be snarky, but before she could open her mouth, he was leaning in and kissing her. 

Her hands flailed out and gripped the straps holding his shoulder guards in place, letting her feel his biceps flex under her fingers as he braced himself on the arms of the chair. She kissed him hungrily, chasing his tongue, feeling like they were picking up a dance that they had stopped halfway-through. 

Oliver lifted his hands, moving them to the back of the chair. It rocked back, making Felicity’s feet fly up in the air. She laughed against his lips, and Oliver grinned at her. 

“Surprise.” 

“Nice surprise,” she said, running her hands up and down his arms. “Keep going, Oliver.”

He kissed her neck, making her shiver. “Take off your underwear, Felicity,” he muttered against her skin. 

Without any delay, she lifted her hips and wiggled out of her panties, then lifted her hands and ran them over the front of his pants. Slowly. “How d’you get these open?” she asked after a few moments, partly curious, partly frustrated.

“Felicity,” he gritted out. 

“Found it!” she said, looking up at him with a grin. 

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he warned.

She grinned wider and hiked her skirt up, then spread her legs for good measure.

And Oliver didn’t disappoint her. His eyes went wide, and then he was kissing her hungrily, moving one hand from the back of the chair and gripping his cock, dragging the head through her folds and making her whimper against his mouth.

“Oliver–” she moaned, only to gasp when he thrust hard into her. The chair skidded slightly under the force of his movement, but Oliver kept them in place as he rocked into her, his hips snapping. Their bodies slapped against each other and she held on to his arms as he moved, biting her lower lip.

“No–don’t do that,” he said, nipping the corner of her mouth. “I wanna hear you, Felicity.”

Felicity released her lip and immediately let out a soft groan as he hit a very good spot inside her. “Oh, God, yes!”

His knowledge of her body was unparalleled. He knew how to draw out her climax, how to spark a reaction from her. Tonight was no different–but that didn’t make it bad. It made it so good. 

When she climaxed, calling out his name at the top of her lungs and sinking her nails into the leather of his jacket, she knew that was better than any fantasy. 

Although … she was pretty sure they were going to have to replace this chair.


	45. felicity overhears a drunken isobel arguing with oliver at a QC function over the fact the he dropped felicity's name in bed

_felicity overhears a drunken isobel arguing with oliver at a QC function over the fact the he dropped felicity's name in bed_

She … she must have misheard. Because Isabel seemed to be drunk, from the way she was slurring her words. And when you were trying to act like you weren’t listening to someone whisper-yelling slurred words at someone else, it was easy to think you heard one thing when it was really something else.

Because there was no way on Earth or the solar system or in a galaxy far far away that Oliver had said her name during his … ‘encounter’ with Isabel.

Felicity didn’t sound anything like Isabel!

It had to be a mistake, Felicity told herself as she washed her hands methodically. When Isabel’s words had sunk in–not that she had accepted them, but when she had realized what Isabel maybe had been saying–Felicity had fled to the bathroom, ignoring her executive assistant duties in favor of freaking out in semi-privacy.

Isabel was drunk. Or high. Or something–it didn’t really seem like her to get drunk. But the very mean woman (Felicity refused to use gendered insults towards any other woman, although it was hard not to break her lifelong vow with Isabel) insistently telling Oliver he was an asshole for saying “Felicity” when he came …

God, that gave her a mental image she _did not_ want. She did not want to imagine what Oliver’s face looked like when he climaxed, did not want to imagine her name slipping from his lips as he found completion inside her …

With all her willpower and strength, Felicity met her eyes in the mirror and silently told herself to stop this. This was only what she deserved for eavesdropping, and since clearly it wasn’t true–clearly she had misunderstood what Isabel was saying–she would have to accept that just because she wanted it to be true didn’t make it true. Oliver didn’t feel that way about her. 

_Because of the life I lead … I just think it’s better not to be with someone I could really care about._

Felicity shook her head. No. That wasn’t Oliver talking about her. He saw her as his partner in crime, his Girl Wednesday. That was all she was to him. The sooner she remembered that–the sooner she buried Isabel’s slurred diatribe–the better. 

Because saving Starling City–because saving _Oliver_ –came first.

XXX

After a sleepless night, the last thing Felicity wanted to deal with was a long day in the office. But that was what today had turned into, thanks to an emergency board meeting called for that night. Something about an Applied Sciences breakthrough that required immediate additional funds in order to be completed successfully. Normally, Felicity would have been more interested in what was happening in Applied Sciences, but her mind couldn’t seem to focus very well.

Maybe it was because Oliver was wearing that gray suit that made him look like something out a movie, or because he had been extra-vigilant in the application of that woodsy cologne that _did_ things to her. Whatever it was, she was hyper-sensitive of him and it turned her into a klutz. She dropped a folder full of papers, getting them thoroughly mixed-up. And when Oliver had bent down to help her gather everything up, it was only his freakish ninja skills that kept them from clocking their foreheads together.

After that, Felicity had done her best to throw herself into her work and not look at Oliver. It had worked … mostly. At least he didn’t seem to suspect anything was wrong with her. 

At least, that was what she thought, up until she walked into the conference room after the board meeting, to get the water pitchers and glasses cleaned up, to discover Oliver sitting in a chair at the head of the table, his head in his hands. 

“Oliver?” she asked, stepping towards him. 

His head immediately jerked up and he rose to his feet. “Felicity. Are you all right?”

She frowned. “Um … yes? I mean, I’m fine.” 

There wasn’t much light in the conference room: only a few of the overhead lights were on, leaving the room dim. Yet Oliver’s eyes were very bright and very blue. “I was worried about you … you just seemed off today.” 

Swallowing, Felicity pasted on a smile. “Oh, you know how it is–late night last night, late night tonight …” 

His eyes narrowed. Like he didn’t believe her. Felicity waited for his expression to smooth out, for him to accept her at word and move on. He was probably itching to get to the Arrow Cave and suit up, since he hadn’t been able to go out last night. 

“I don’t think that’s it.” 

Felicity blinked. “Excuse me?” she asked, balling her hands into fists at her sides. 

“I don’t think that’s it,” Oliver repeated, taking a step towards her. “You’ve handled later nights for a longer stretch flawlessly. You left the gala last night at midnight. So lack of sleep isn’t the problem.”

What the hell was he doing? Why was he calling her on this? Felicity felt a flare of anger inside herself, bright and hot–so fiery that she was ready to blurt out what Isabel had said, to tell Oliver he was a flaming hypocrite and an asshole of the highest order, thinking he could make decisions for her–

But there was no way in hell she was going to open that Pandora’s box. Because there was a lot of things inside it, and if she opened it, they would be here all night.

And she wasn’t sure if their partnership would survive if she took the lid off it.

“I told you, Oliver–I’m fine,” she said firmly, drawing herself up to her full height and very grateful she had chosen the four-inch heels today. “Today was just a long day.” She glanced around the room. “I’ll take care of the clean-up in here tomorrow morning first thing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He let her turn around and start walking away. And when she was nearly to the door, he spoke. “I saw you.”

She shouldn’t stop. She shouldn’t turn around. Because she knew that Oliver was taking that Pandora’s Box and shaking it in her face. Peeling up one corner of the lid, daring her to open it. Betting that she would rise to the bait.

Because he knew she hated mysteries. And whatever existed between them was the biggest mystery of all. 

Damn him for knowing her so well, when she had done everything she could to keep her walls in place. To hold him at arm’s length, to only let slip the inconsequential little facts about herself. Because while she might have a crush on Oliver, that didn’t mean he cared about her like that. That he hungered to know her like she craved knowledge of his innermost thoughts and feelings.

But somehow, he had figured her out. And she didn’t know what to do with that, didn’t know what to do–

Other than turn and face him, her hands still balled up at her sides. “What?”

Oliver took a step towards her. “I saw you. Last night, when Isabel was calling me an asshole for saying the wrong name in bed.” 

A million different thoughts went through her head, a million different emotions went through her body. “I wasn’t listening–I mean, I wasn’t trying to listen, like an eavesdropper would. She was talking pretty loud, even though she was trying to whisper. But I’m sure no one believed her, since she seemed pretty drunk and after all, no one would believe her.” 

“They should,” he said sheepishly, taking another step towards her. 

Something about his almost-shy words coupled with the intensity of his stare, the tension coiling in his body, made her brain stumble. “They should?” she parroted, staring at him.

He nodded. “Because it’s the truth.”

How had he managed to cross the distance between them so easily? Felicity didn’t know. She didn’t know anything, because … it was the truth.

Oliver had said her name when he was with Isabel. 

“What the _fuck_ , Oliver?”

The vitriol in her words–and the unusual display of cursing–made Oliver looked shocked. He stared at her with wide eyes, then slowly licked his lips. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said–what the fuck? How can you say my name when you were with that–that _harpy_ ,” Felicity nearly shrieked, feeling frustrated at breaking her vow but not caring in the midst of her anger. “And then you give me that line about not being with someone you care about, but last night, you knew I heard Isabel and you–you didn’t think to tell me the truth? That you–you just don’t want to be involved with me, but God forbid anyone else show me any interest? You think you can make decisions for me, Oliver Queen, but you’re not the father that walked out on me and you’re not my boyfriend or my lover or my husband. If you were my father or my boyfriend, I might listen to your opinion–but that still wouldn’t give you the right to make choices for me! To decide that it’s better for me if I didn’t know the truth. Wrong, Oliver–I’m the only one who gets to decide what’s best for me, so fuck you!”

Never before had she been so incandescently angry. She felt like one of those ancient avenging goddesses, like laser beams could come from her eyes and incinerate Oliver Queen, this building, the entire world. 

So it really didn’t make any sense that she stalked towards him, grabbed his face in her hands, and pulled him in for a kiss. Not when she was so angry.

But she was tired of him making decisions for her. Now it was time for her to make a decision for him. He was too scared to make a move? Fine. She would make it. Something direct and clear-cut and obvious–so obvious that he couldn’t help getting it.

For a few seconds, Oliver just let her kiss him. It was long enough that her anger had just started to change to embarrassment, to horror. Long enough that she was just starting to draw back in order to apologize. 

And then his hands were on her lower back, pressing her to him. And he was kissing her back. And there wasn’t any anger in his kiss. It was more … complete, utter relief. 

Not to mention _a lot_ of passion. 

The anger drained out of her for the moment. She was still upset with him–and they were definitely going to talk about his high-handed behavior–but … later. After they were done kissing. Because she had been waiting a year to kiss Oliver, and while the circumstances weren’t what she had dreamed of them being, that didn’t make this kiss any less good. 

Oliver’s hands gripped her sides, just above her hips. His mouth was hot and insistent against hers, his tongue stroking the seam of her lips and making her open up. And when she did, he let out this soft groan that made her knees go weak and her arms slide up to wrap around his neck. Holding on to him for dear life. 

“Felicity,” he muttered against her lips, his hands beginning to move, making her shiver as they went to her hips and pulled her even closer against him. 

Wow. He–he really liked her. 

One of her hands slid down from around his neck, slipping under the lapel of his jacket so she could feel his pounding heart. Then she slid it up, towards his shoulder, pushing aside his jacket. 

He let go of her long enough to shake his jacket off, leaving him in his tie and still-crisp dress shirt. Giving her better access to his arms and shoulders and chest, which she was so going to take. Her lips moved to kiss along his jaw, sucking in oxygen between kisses, so she had enough sense to be able to work on undoing his tie. 

And suddenly she was in the air, gripping his tie, as Oliver picked her up and set her on the conference table. “Oliver,” she gasped, looking at him and panting. 

“Please, Felicity,” he said, stepping between her legs–when had she parted them for him?– and cupping her face in his hands. Holding her so delicately, his callouses rough against her skin. “Just–give us tonight and we’ll figure the rest out tomorrow?’

This wasn’t like her. She wasn’t impulsive like this. Except when the formerly-dead man came to her cubicle with a shitty lie. Except when a bleeding vigilante showed up in her car. Except when she stayed on with Team Arrow long after Walter had been found.

Oliver made her impulsive. And everything in her told her this was risky–so risky. Too risky. 

But she had never felt so alive. 

“Oliver,” she breathed out, her feet wrapping around his legs and pulling him in against her. She could see the burst of affection and happiness that appeared in his eyes, all the brighter for his incredulous smile, before he lowered his lips to hers and she couldn’t see his face any longer. 

His hands ran over her slowly, touching her sides and hips before sliding back up to cup her breasts, to stroke his thumbs over her nipples. She moaned against his lips and went back to work on his tie, yanking it free and then fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. 

He stopped touching her, bringing his hands up to rip open his shirt and send the buttons flying. 

“Oh, God, that was so hot,” Felicity said, blinking at him even as her hands immediately began touching his now-revealed chest. Stroking his muscles, running over that tattoo above his heart, gently tracing his scars. Feeling his chest heave under her hands as he breathed deeply. 

And then he began kissing and sucking on her neck, and _she_ was the one breathing hard.

It was just unfair how beautiful he was. Yes, he was scarred and damaged, but it made him beautiful. Because it showed how he had survived. How he had never stopped fighting. 

So she didn’t understand why he wasn’t willing to fight for her. For this. Because clearly … they had something once-in-a-lifetime between them. 

Pushing aside that thought, Felicity made herself focus on Oliver. On kissing him, on touching him, on making this good for him. Because she was just a normal woman, without washboard abs and super-pert breasts. 

But he seemed to like what he was feeling. So she grabbed one of his hands and moved it to the zipper of her dress.

“Yes,” he moaned against her neck, before muttering something in what sounded like Russian. Which should _not_ make her panties even more drenched, not after what had happened in Russia, but it did.

And when he got her dress unzipped, and it was down around her waist, leaving her in just her bra … Felicity thought that it didn’t matter that she was normal. Because Oliver’s eyes didn’t look at her like she was normal.

He looked at her like she was beautiful. 

His hands were so warm–they covered so much of her as he touched her. It made her feel like a ball of fire, like she was going to explode if they didn’t get closer.

Oliver seemed to have the same idea, because he was shucking off his shirt and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against his chest and pressing kisses to her shoulder. Felicity ran her hands over his back, feeling his strength and needing him. She tightened the grip her legs had on him. “Oliver, take me.” 

She was prepared for him to question her. To ask if she was sure. But he didn’t do that. He simply stepped back from her, sending a rush of cold air over her overheated skin, and started undoing his belt, all the while his eyes never left hers. 

God, what was he doing to her?

Felicity quickly unsnapped her bra, tossing it aside and not missing the flare in Oliver’s eyes at seeing her bare breasts. But when she moved to be half-on the table, wiggling to push her dress and panties off, Oliver literally stopped what he was doing to stare at her, his eyes vacant and cloudy with desire. 

Unable to hold back her broad grin, Felicity pushed herself back on the table and reached up to undo her ponytail. Giving her hair a shake, she leaned back on her hands as she pondered what would make him move: licking her lips or spreading her legs. 

But it took neither. It seemed that letting down her hair had already done the trick, because suddenly he was there, pushing her legs apart, his cock free and pressing against her as he kissed her with a hunger and passion she had never experienced before. It was so overwhelming that Felicity just held on to his shoulders, letting him kiss her and doing her best to respond.

And then he slid into her and they both moaned in unison. She met his eyes, seeing them so blue and totally, utterly fixed on her. It was intoxicating and she couldn’t look away, even as she felt herself already coiled into a tight ball, one that wouldn’t take much to shatter into a million pieces. 

Given his pace, he wasn’t far behind her, either. She found herself muttering his name with each of his thrusts, little whimpers or gasps occasionally interrupting the syllables of _Oliver_ , stretching his name out into something like a symphony. 

At the same time, he was saying _her_ name. Looking her in the eye as he gritted out each part of her name. Making it clear that he knew exactly who he was with. That he was with the woman he truly wanted. 

His cock was big and broad and filled her up, stretching her, making her feel so full, and his eyes didn’t look away and just added to all the sensations, so that she was warm and happy and _loved_ –

The climax that swept over her was awe-inspiring, breath-taking, soul-restoring. If anyone else had told Felicity that, she would have doubted them. But that was what her orgasm was. She felt like she was herself, truly herself, for the first time in her life. She clutched at Oliver and shouted his name, her voice breaking on the cry as her body lost control. 

In the aftermath, she had a flash of Oliver grunting. Of him saying her name, brokenly and tenderly, his body trembling against hers. 

And then the only sound in the conference room were their panting breaths and soft moans.

Gradually Felicity came back to herself, feeling the stickiness between her legs, the cool air against the drying sweat on her skin, the hot and heavy weight of Oliver against her front. And she didn’t know what to do. Should she pull away? Act like nothing had changed? Or had everything changed–and not for the good? 

Her mind was racing so much, she nearly missed the soft kiss that Oliver placed on her shoulder. But when he kissed her pulse point, she shivered, and she felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin. 

Holy shit, Oliver was a _cuddler_? Because he hadn’t moved away–his arms were still wrapped around her, and now he was peppering her neck with soft delicate little kisses that made her feel like his lips were like butterfly wings. 

“I know I said we’d figure everything out tomorrow, but if we started now, we might have time to do that again before work.” Oliver’s voice was tired, yes, but filled with a bone-deep contentment that she had never heard–had never imagined she would hear. He kissed her neck, just under her ear, and pulled back to look at her. 

“What?”

Something about her confused, dumbfounded response made Oliver grin at her in a way she really, really liked. Because it was a brand-new expression on his face, one she hadn’t ever seen. 

“You’re the genius around here … put the pieces together, Felicity,” he told her gently, his hands slowly stroking her sides. “I’m insanely protective of you … I said your name with another woman … I gave you a stupid line because I was scared … but when you were angry with me, when you started to suspect something was going on, I told you the truth.” 

“You really care about me,” Felicity said, needed to confirm that. Needing it to be spelled out, even if she was the genius in this partnership.

Oliver nodded, stealing a kiss from her. “I really care about you. But I didn’t think you deserved to be saddled with someone like me, so I was going to deny I had feelings for you. And then you heard Isabel, and I … I knew you were doubting that anything could happen. Between us. And I couldn’t let you do that, because you would think it was because of you.” He paused and looked at her, his eyes piercing her soul. “But it was me, Felicity. You deserve so much better than me.”

She opened her mouth to argue, and his hand covered her lips, halting her words. “But as you pointed out,” Oliver continued, his fingers softly tracing the outline of her mouth, “I don’t get to make decisions for you. And then you kissed me, and … well, I should really let you make all the decisions.” 

He gave her a soft smirk of a smile, yet his eyes were serious. Very serious. And Felicity realized that he was leaving it up to her to decide what happened next. If she wanted more with him, if she wanted just sex or an actual relationship–whatever she chose, Oliver would go along with. And it was dizzying, to think she had that kind of power over him. That she held both of their happiness in her hands. 

But it was also easy. Because of course she was going to choose him. 

“Oh, Oliver,” she said, raising her hands and stroking his cheeks. “You really should.” 

God, she could get addicted to Oliver smiling at her. But, she thought as he lowered his head towards her, it was much more likely she was going to get addicted to kissing him.


End file.
